Stay With Me
by Mystewitch
Summary: This is set at the end of Winter Soldier, while Steve is recovering from his injuries. What happens when Natasha invites Steve to crash at her place when he gets out of the hospital? They become so much more than friends.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I don't own Cap or any of the characters, but I do like to take them for a spin every now and again…**

**I'm sorry I've been MIA for so long, I've really missed writing fan fics! I've finally gotten through the last bits for my latest book, and I've got a little time to myself to post something that's long overdue! It starts off a little melodramaculous, but it'll get going once Steve wakes up and they start interacting.**

**This is set at the end of Winter Soldier, while Steve is recovering from his injuries. What happens when Natasha invites Steve to crash at her place when he gets out of the hospital? They become so much more than friends. **

~Natasha~

Every day she came. Every day she watched and waited for him to open those steadfast blue eyes and return to the land of the living. Sam got the seat of honor beside him and the gift of his first words. But she didn't mind. She didn't like to sit with her worry exposed to the world. That, she kept for the nights alone when she could bend but not break. She was used to being alone. Preferred it even.

Or at least she had.

Instead, she satisfied her need with the occasional press of hands or light touch at his brow in the stillness of the early morning hours, when the rest of the world lay sleeping the sleep of the innocent. Those hours had been lost to her for long years now.

She'd been the one to find him like a broken doll at the water's edge. Her tears that had fallen to mingle salty with sweet on his cheeks when she found him cold and unresponsive. And her lips to press against his in relief when she'd found the throb of his pulse, faint but steady.

Natasha had been the one to roll him onto his stomach to force the rest of the water from his lungs, and she'd dragged him across the tall grass to flag down the chopper. But once the trauma team swarmed like bees to gather him to the hive, she'd fallen back, still too much in shock to follow. If she saw him on the operating table she might see him die, like Nick. And while Nick hadn't _actually_ died, that hadn't spared her the pain of thinking he had. She wasn't sure she could take another loss like that again, especially not with Steve.

And so she'd watched from afar, hovering just out of sight. Hyperaware of his every breath, his every sigh of pain, and those dreadful moments when his body twitched, fighting battles again and again in his mind.

It was such a moment that brought her to his side, covering his hand with hers when his head whipped against the pillow, the stitches standing out starkly against his pale skin. It was only concern for a fellow teammate that led her to gently stroke his hand and murmur soothing words in her mother tongue – words she'd never dare speak to another human being in English. Except maybe Barton, but he knew more of her secrets than most.

It was only common concern. If she said it enough times it might even be true. Natasha _needed_ it to be true.

She needed to divorce herself of this weakness before it consumed her, and she ended up in worse shape than him. Pushing herself up to her feet, she turned to leave, but not before she noticed how he'd quieted under her touch, and how peacefully he slept now. How strange that a simple thing as touch could bring him such serenity and render her a complete bundle of nerves.

* * *

~Steve~

Oblivious to her watchful eye, Steve never felt the press of her hand against his battered face in the early hours of the day. He never heard the whispered prayer of thanks his "on your left" produced in the hallway when he swam his way to consciousness. He never heard the soothing words spoken to keep the devils at bay.

But there was a sense of loss when he woke to find himself alone, the sense of her presence so strong, he'd been sure of finding her hand in his. He flexed his fingers, wondering why one hand felt warmer than the other.

A flash of red hair caught his eye, his reflexes still too slow to catch more than a glimpse of a woman's back at the end of the hall. But it was enough. She'd been there after all. That knowledge curved his lips into a smile that became a wince as the stitches pulled at the movement. Steve took that comfort with him as he slipped back into dark oblivion.

**A/N: Remember - Feedback is Love!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I don't own Cap or any of the characters, but I do like to take them for a spin every now and again…**

**Thanks everyone for the reviews and follows! It's always easier to keep going with a story if I know people are reading. :)**

~Natasha~

Natasha stayed away for a few days after that. More out of a need to prove a point to herself rather than any lack of worry on her part. She'd gone three days without seeing him and it was business as usual. No crying into her Wheaties, or gorging on ice cream, or whatever it was women were supposed to do when they were hung up on a man. And if she was a little more on edge lately, she could chalk that up to the enforced inactivity from Nick asking her to lay low for a while. It had nothing to do with missing his dopey smile or the way he brushed his hair away from his forehead.

On the day he was to be released from the hospital she'd called Sam to let him know she was available to give Steve a ride. It was the polite thing to do. After all, Sam had a day job, hers was on hiatus. For half a second she considered waiting in the car for him to come out, but impatience had her leaving the Corvette parked in the loading zone to search him out and light a fire under someone's ass if that's what it took to spring him.

She found him standing in front of the window, gazing down at the street below. The stitches were gone, his bruises all but faded, though she knew it'd be a while before he was back up to full strength, serum or no serum. For long seconds she watched him – the way he could stand there, completely at ease, wholly absorbed in his thoughts. She was much too twitchy of for that. Hyperaware of her surroundings, her file said.

"What's the matter, you don't say hi anymore?" Steve asked, and she realized he'd been aware of her presence all along.

"Sorry, I thought maybe you were having a senior moment and I didn't want to interrupt," she smirked.

He cracked a self deprecating smile at that, acknowledging the dig but not returning one. "You playing taxi service?"

"That's what they pay me for these days. You ready to get out of here?"

"I'm supposed to wait for the nurse with my release papers."

"Because you always do what you're told, right?" She arched a single brow with a wry twist of the lips.

He was spared from replying by the arrival of the nurse, clipboard resting on the seat of the wheelchair she pushed. "Here we are, Mr. Rogers. If you'll just sign here we can get you processed in no time."

"Ah, thank you, ma'am," he replied automatically, scratching his upper lip with his thumb before signing the sheaf of papers and handing them back over. "I don't need the wheelchair though, thanks."

"I'm afraid hospital regulations require it."

"Loosen up, big guy, I'll drive." Natasha stepped in and grasped the handles. "Let's go, I'm parked in a white zone."

With a sigh, he folded his large frame into the chair, frowning over the fuss as the nurse settled his feet in. No sooner was he secured then Natasha propelled him forward, eager to escape the room she'd come to associate with his pain.

"Hey, I'm as ready to get out of here as the next guy, but not at the risk of crashing into something and winding right back again," he joked when she took the turn too quickly, nearly clipping a gurney left unattended in the hallway.

"Relax, I've steered my way out of tighter corners than this." Natasha slowed down though, taking him safely out the main entrance to where her flashy car waited undisturbed. "Careful now," she murmured, helping to ease him into the low car, taking the brunt of his weight when his breath came in a painful hitch.

"I'm fine," he said, taking deep breaths before he attempted the seat belt.

"I'll get it." Tasha snatched it out of his hand and leaned across him to buckle him in, her lips quirking into a smile as she clicked it into place. "Take it easy, Grandpa, I've got you covered."

"Yep, I'm old and slow, I get it," Steve said with a tight smile. "You get to joke about it for exactly one day and then you're done, okay?"

"That all depends on how long it takes you to stop walking like a septuagenarian," she teased, easing herself out of his lap and going around to the driver's seat. "So, straight to your place, or do you need to stop at the pharmacy or anything?"

Steve let out a long breath. "I don't really want to go back there. Actually, I have no idea if it's even in decent shape for me to go back to."

"The damage has all been repaired," she assured him, pulling smoothly into traffic.

"Still…"

Darting a glance in his direction, she could feel the unease coming off of him in waves, and it made her more uncomfortable than she would've thought. "Where to then?"

"Surprise me."

Natasha surprised herself when she took him to her own apartment building. It was a converted loft apartment with high ceilings and a utilitarian kitchen. Nothing fancy, but it suited her purposes just fine. Most of the living room was wide open space, a pile of mats stacked up in the corner for when she had a partner to spar with. The bedroom was tucked behind an open bookcase room divider, partially visible to the rest of the apartment. Her one splurge was a deep, soaker tub with therapeutic jets, absolutely necessary after a long day getting thrown off of bridges and hanging out of helicopters.

Steve made a slow circuit of the space while she tossed his bag into the closet and hung up her jacket. "Jesus, Nat. How long have you lived here?"

"Two years, why?"

"Because I've seen hotel rooms with more personality than this place."

It was a little spartan. Funny how she'd never noticed it before. Barton hadn't seemed to mind. "I don't attach myself to material things."

"You don't attach yourself much to food either, do you?" he griped, pulling open the fridge.

"Relax, I'll run out and get some groceries in a bit. What kind of Jello do you like, Grandpa? Lime or cherry?" she couldn't help but tease.

"I happen to like Jello."

"Of _course_ you do."

"Lime please," he requested with a polite smile and hers stretched wider.

"I'll splurge just this once in honor of your homecoming and get you both. Anything else you need, just make a list." She patted the notepad stuck to the side of the refrigerator.

Steve settled himself onto the couch, and she could tell he was biting back a groan at the movement. "I guess I'll take the couch tonight," he said, giving the cushions a pat.

"No, you're recovering from multiple surgeries, you'll sleep in the bed. Don't worry, it has excellent lumbar support."

A deep furrow appeared on his brow. "I'm not putting you out of your own bed."

"Fine, then don't. We'll share."

"Share the same bed?" he blinked.

"Don't be such a baby. It's not that big of a deal. Or do I have to worry about your intentions." She quirked a brow at him, and he held his hands up in his own defense.

"No, ma'am. I can handle it if you can."

"I'll try and restrain myself," she smirked, heading into the bathroom. With the door locked and the water running, Natasha gripped the counter, meeting her eyes in the mirror. "What are you doing?" she whispered.

No answer came.

**~Feedback is Love~**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I don't own Cap or any of the characters, but I do like to take them for a spin every now and again…**

**Thanks for all the follows and reviews! I plan to update every Friday if possible. I wish I could do it more often, but I'm already writing between 4K and 5K per day on my book, so this is all I can squeeze in. I hope you enjoy the next chapter! **

~Steve~

Steve had been dead tired when he'd crawled into bed, falling asleep almost from the instant his head hit the pillow. So why then was he lying there unable to sleep from the moment Natasha stretched out beside him? It wasn't the bed. It was nice and firm, unlike the mattress in his old apartment, and there wasn't much bounce when she moved. Natasha shifted in her sleep, red hair falling over one bare shoulder. She was covered well enough, but it didn't matter. The sheet barely hid her lush contours, exposing the delicate slope of her breast that disappeared under the thin tank top she wore. It wasn't more than he'd seen peeping out of the top of her clothes, but somehow in the close confines of her bed it seemed far more intimate.

"She's not for you, buddy," he repeated to himself in the stillness of his mind. She wasn't even his type. Natasha was too hard and unbending, and entirely without morals. Well, not entirely. She was strong and beautiful and loyal to a fault. Every inch the spitfire Peggy had been, only with a sly modern wit he enjoyed jousting with. Ah, who the hell was he kidding, she was _exactly_ his type.

And that mouth… He'd spent the better part of the night fantasizing about those lips on his. Was it fact or fancy that he imagined he'd felt them before? Not that clumsy kiss on the escalator when they'd been avoiding Rumlow and his goons. He had a much fuzzier memory of another kiss. Barely on the edge of awareness, he'd felt her brief press of lips, his eyes cracking open to see her leaning over him, her bright hair haloed by the sun. She'd been too dazzling for him, and when his eyes had opened again she was gone, replaced by a helicopter EMT.

"She's not for you, buddy" he breathed, rolling onto his back and closing his eyes until sleep eventually claimed him.

* * *

~Natasha~

In the end she hadn't slept at all. Aware of his every move, every breath, she'd feigned sleep until he relaxed enough to slip under again, but then lay there watching him slumber until the sun rose high enough that sleep became impossible.

Those five words he'd whispered in the stillness of the night. What had they meant? Who wasn't for him? Was he thinking about his first love, lying in the nursing home, ravaged by age and Alzheimer's? Was it Kristen from statistics? Or had Sharon made more of an impression on him than she'd thought? Questions like those occupied her thoughts until the first rays of sun filtered through the blinds, and she rose to wash the cobwebs from her eyes.

Natasha stepped out of the shower to see him dragging the mats across her living room floor. The smell of fresh brewed coffee hung heavy in the air, and a sliced apple smeared with peanut butter sat lonely on the counter beside an empty plate.

"Did you save me any hot water?" Steve asked, his eyes flicking in her direction and then quickly looking away from her towel-wrapped body. He still moved slower than normal, but without the hitch of pain that'd dogged his movements the afternoon before. Damn, but he healed fast.

"Ah, I'm not sure," she replied, on new ground. She'd been the only one to shower at her apartment before. She set down the extra towel she'd been using to dry her hair, staring at the apple. Was it meant for her? Just because there was a peanut butter smeared plate beside it didn't mean it wasn't earmarked for him as well. The guy ate more at one sitting than she did all day.

He was back at the mats again, tugging the last one into place. "That's okay, I thought I'd get in a bit of a workout before I shower anyway."

"Sorry, if I woke you."

"No, I'm not much of a late sleeper myself," he admitted, waving her concern away. "I didn't know how you like your coffee, but it's ready." He gestured to the counter. "And I was hoping to bribe you with a quick breakfast." His smile dazzled, and she looked away, unable to keep her game face on in such unfamiliar territory.

"And what are you hoping to bribe me for?" she asked, taking a bite of tart apple.

"I could use a sparring partner." There it was, that hopeful puppydog look he got whenever he needed a favor. Natasha hadn't seen it often, and had been on the receiving end of it even less, but she was by no means immune to it. Still, she wasn't sure giving in to him was the best course of action.

"You think you're up for something like that?" She quirked a brow, but he met her gaze evenly.

"I'm up for anything you throw my way."

For a second she thought he might be flirting with her, but then she remembered who it was she was talking to. "We'll see about that." Natasha stalked toward him, and his hands came up in a supplicating gesture, eyes dipping to the top of her towel.

"But ah… shouldn't you change into something first?"

So, the Boy Scout was affected by her after all. "I guess you're not up for _anything_ I throw your way," she smirked, throwing him a last look over her shoulder before she disappeared into her bedroom, dropping the towel as she reached her closet. She almost felt the air whoosh out of his lungs as he got an eyeful and then turned his back, ears beet red to match the flush that rose to the tips of his hair.

**A/N: Anybody up for a little sparring with Steve?**

**~Feedback is Love~**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I don't own Cap or any of the characters, but I do like to take them for a spin every now and again…**

**Woot! I'm glad so many of you are finding this story! Just a quick note about how this fits in with some of the canon changes due to Age of Ultron. First off, I loved the movie, but without getting too spoilery, there were some relationship changes that were introduced that I'm not on board with. Since this story takes place at the end of Winter Soldier, not only am I going to ignore everything that happened in Avengers 2, I'm also not going to acknowledge any of the relationship revelations that were made in it. Specifically as it relates to Clint, Natasha and Steve. Sound good? **

~Natasha~

"Come on, you're hitting like a girl," Steve griped, absorbing a blow that she could admit, she'd delivered at half strength.

Natasha blew the hair out of her face, circling around him. "I'm trying not to hurt you, moron."

"I don't think you can," he taunted, but she didn't take the bait.

"You're pushing it, Rogers. Stop trying to egg me on, and get your head in the game."

"Stop pulling your punches, I can take it."

He asked for it. She spun around, delivering a high kick that would've clocked most men in the throat, but it hit him squarely in the solar plexus. He should've been able to absorb the blow, but he lost his balance and went down hard, clutching his middle with a grunt of pain.

"Shit, Steve!" In a flash she was at his side, helping him to his feet.

"I'm fine, just give me a minute to catch my breath," he insisted, and her concern quickly turned to anger over his pigheadedness.

"That's it, we're done."

"You've had enough, have you?" he chuckled, but it came out as more of a wheeze. "I guess I win by default if you're quitting."

"Is this funny to you? Did I hit you one too many times in the head? You're not ready for this.

Just as quickly he sobered, his brows drawing together into a single, dark line. "Ready or not, this is the only way I know how to get back into shape."

"It's not a crime to take a break you know."

"That's rich coming from you. When's the last time you took it easy?"

He had her there. "I took a couple of days off to let my shoulder heal after we took down Pierce."

"Yeah, _after_ we took him down. You were right back in there in the thick of the fight, wounded or not. I don't expect to give any less."

"The difference is there's no need for you to. We beat the bad guys, we won. Sort of," she admitted when the look of incredulity stretched across his face. "There's no one left to fight."

"You know that's not true. You cut off one head…"

"We ripped out Hydra's heart." She cut him off, losing the sharp edge to her voice as she saw her words start to sink in. The corner of her mouth tugged up into a half smile. "So would you take it easy, or am I gonna have to tie you up to force you to rest?"

"It's not really my thing, but I could add it to my notebook," Steve grinned, and she gave no sign how that teasing remark shocked her. Was this the same man who was too shy to ask a girl for her phone number? "You think you could?" he challenged, meeting her gaze directly.

"With one hand behind my back."

"Bring it then. Winner gets to make the loser do anything he…"

"Or she."

"He _or_ she wants for a week."

"For a day," she countered.

"Fine."

"Fine."

"Let's go then."

* * *

~Steve~

On any other day he'd have wiped the mat with her, his enhanced strength and reflexes more than a match for her technique. At least, that's what he kept telling himself. Better to blame it on his still healing body than admit the fact that she just might be better than him, because she was giving him one hell of a run for his money.

It helped that her competitive edge wasn't quite as honed as usual, he could tell in the way she still pulled her punches. It only served to sharpen his, pushing her further, daring her to challenge him the way he knew she could. He felt it the instant it got to her, and Tasha started trying to win. The spark of competition fueled his muscles as he redoubled his efforts, pushing past the pain to bring her down, pinning her with his body against the mat.

"Okay, that one was pretty good," she allowed, chest heaving as she caught her breath.

"Told you I could take it. Now are you gonna bring it or not?"

Her head tilted to one side. "Have you been watching movies about cheerleaders? Doesn't that make you kind of a dirty old man?"

The question caught him off guard, as did the way she slid against him, slick with a sheen of perspiration. All of a sudden he was all kinds of aware how closely their bodies pressed together. She was all softness and supple flexibility, and it distracted him. When she smiled up at him, his own lips curved in automatic response, and he completely missed the heel of her hand until it almost connected with his temple, deflecting it just in time. They traded more blows with fierce, almost frenetic intensity. Most of the damage was avoided – just barely – but connecting enough that they eventually slowed, each falling back on the mat, incapable of doing more than breathing hard.

"Call it a draw?" Steve ventured, leaning up on his elbows, wincing at the movement.

"I guess," she panted, slowly gaining her feet and offering him her hand up. Steve took it, the glint in her eye barely registering a flash before she moved, lightning quick. Instead of pulling, she pushed, rolling with him to wrap her thighs around his head, squeezing tight. "On second thought, I think I'm more partial to winning."

Steve tried to break free, but those thighs were an immovable force, slowly squeezing the life out of him. When he started to see stars and stripes, he felt her lean down and brush the hair off of his forehead. "Do you give up?" she asked, her tone mild as if asking would he'd like seconds on pie. Even if he'd wanted to, Steve was incapable of making more than a gurgling sound. "Try once for no, twice for yes," she teased and he thumped the mat twice, sucking in a deep breath when she released him. Natasha took the victory in stride, rising to her feet with easy grace. "I guess that makes me the winner."

The way she stared down at him, it was almost like he didn't recognize her for a moment. Was winning really that important to her? "That was cold," Steve groaned, hand going to his throat as his chest heaved to fill with air.

Natasha seemed to take the pronouncement in stride, offering a half shrug. "I did what it took to get the job done. That's what I do." She offered him her hand again, and Steve hesitated for a moment before taking it. But this time she helped him to his feet, her hand lingering in his even after he'd regained his balance.

"Alright, you won not-so-fair and square," he accepted, in no hurry to pull away if she didn't. "What do you want me to do?"

Her eyes flared with something he couldn't fathom, but an instant later it was gone, the hint of a smile curving her lips. "Take a shower, you stink," she said, letting go of him to push lightly at his chest.

Steve's head hung with humility, his naturally self-deprecating sense of humor taking it in stride. "Actually, I think I'd rather take a swim in your tub. I could really use those jets right about now."

"Suit yourself. And next time, when I tell you to take a break, you do it."

"Yes, ma'am."

**A/N: Next up – bath time. So what did you think? Ordinarily, I think Steve's way tougher than Nat, but he did just get out of the hospital. **

**~ Feedback is love ~**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I don't own Cap or any of the characters, but I do like to take them for a spin every now and again…**

**Welcome to all the new readers! I hope you're enjoying the story. **

~Natasha~

Before the water had even turned off, Natasha was in motion, trying not to think too hard about what she was doing. She'd won the bet, right? Before she could doubt herself, she rapped on the bathroom door, calling out, "Are you decent?"

There was a rapid slosh and the water shut off abruptly, but a few seconds of silence gathered before he replied. "I'm in the tub."

Pushing the door open, Natasha strode in, a folded yoga mat in one hand and a bottle of lilac scented massage oil in the other. Without speaking, she plopped the mat on the ground next to the tub to protect her knees and set the oil down with a thunk, ignoring the way Steve stared at her, his hands strategically blocking her view under the water.

"Ah, I wasn't quite done yet," he said, deep furrows of confusion marring his brow.

She knelt behind him, pouring a liberal amount of scented oil into her hands before rubbing them together. "You have to do what I want, remember?" she said bluntly, her eyes resolutely on his broad shoulders. "You're the idiot who wanted to spar full contact, now shut up and hold still."

"But… I'm in the tub."

There was a little-boy-lost quality to his voice that almost got to her, but Natasha refused to let it slow her down, her voice adopting a lighter tone. "Relax, I'm a professional." But there was nothing professional about the way she touched him. Yes, she knew the best way to ease his tired muscles, but there was more to the way her hands glided over his wet skin. Her hands savored every curve and hollow, the pleasing bulge of muscle and velvet skin she'd been itching to touch for so long.

Despite the comforting flow, she was more than a little cross with Steve for making her harm him in the first place. Who tried sparring the day after being released from the hospital anyway? It'd serve him right to be stiff and sore all day, but even as these thoughts flitted through her mind, her hands worked, spreading soothing warmth to every hurt she'd inflicted.

At some point Steve forgot to be embarrassed, his hands falling away to bob in the water as his head fell forward with a deep groan of relief. Taking that as a good sign, she leaned closer to explore his chest, stopping only to add more fragrant oil.

"You have magic hands," Steve rumbled, drawing the twitch of a half smile to her lips.

"You should see what the rest of me can do." Her hands moved lower, disappearing under the water to skim over the jut of his hip bones.

Steve sucked in a breath, but didn't draw away. "I'm not sure I could take that in my current state."

She heard the hesitation mixed with yearning in his voice, and her mental response clicked – _challenge accepted_. There was something about touching him like this, slow and intimate, caressing more than massaging now, Tasha thought she might be enjoying it more than he did. She'd definitely strayed beyond the appropriate behavior for a fellow teammate and _he'd let her_. Natasha pressed closer still, her chest brushing against his bare back, soaking through her thin t-shirt. She loved the thrill of power she had over him, relishing every groan and soft sigh her touch elicited from him, wanting to push him beyond his safe zone. Her eyes slid shut as a strange lassitude washed over her, the wet heat and the sensual slide of his skin lulling her into a kind of trance, letting herself be guided by his reactions to her touch.

Until her fingers brushed against his hard length in the water and his entire body went rigid. "I, ah…" He swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing as he licked his lips. "I'm not sure I can…"

"Shh… Today is about what I want."

He turned to fix her with those steadfast blue eyes that held so much more than lust, and she lost her rhythm. "What do you want?"

_She hardly knew._ Natasha stared back at him, the silence stretching between them as she struggled to gather her wits back into some semblance of coherent thought. Flooded with rational thought, she started to doubt the wisdom of ever coming into the bathroom, but Steve was the first to speak again.

"If you're the winner, shouldn't I be giving you the massage?" Moving faster than she thought he could manage at the time, he twisted and pulled her into the tub across his lap. While he surprised her with the move, she didn't object, that same, peculiar lassitude coming over her once she hit the water. She let him peel her thin t-shirt off, offering no resistance, but no help either, leaving him to undress her like a doll.

For a moment she wondered if he'd keep on removing her clothes, but he stopped when she was in a sports bra and her skin tight work out shorts. Instead, he squirted some of the massage oil into his hands, his eyes on her every step of the way as if he expected her to bolt at any minute. Maybe she should've, but she couldn't wait to see what he did next.

He lifted her as if she weighed nothing, turning her so that she faced away from him, resting her on his lap with a slosh of water. Unable to see what he intended next, her teeth scraped at her bottom lip as she waited for his touch. It came hesitantly at first, brushing her hair away from the nape of her neck, and then his hands slid across her bare shoulders, steady and sure. The scent of lilacs wafted through the room, not just on her skin, but mingling in the water that steamed around them.

Steve was no trained masseur, his technique lacked her finesse, thumbs digging in harder than most women would probably enjoy, but Natasha liked it hard. Speaking of which, she felt his hardness beneath her, pressed between the ridges of his abdomen and the cleft of her ass. Even if she couldn't see it, she could definitely feel it, and couldn't resist a deliberate shift of her hips, grinding back against him. The movement drew a ragged moan from him, and she felt the tension all along his body from that simple contact. Desperate to hear that sound again, she shifted again, thighs pressing together as she rocked back into him. A heady rush sent tingles through her body as she felt his harsh breath on the back of her neck; his hands had gone still, gripping her tightly.

He wanted her.

Did she want him, or was this just a game? All it would take was a quick slip to remove the last of her clothes. Another shift of her hips and he'd be buried inside her. Maybe then she could burn away this sick need she had to get closer to him. Maybe all she needed was sexual intimacy to chase away the pit of emotional intimacy she teetered at the brink of? It was just sex.

The more she thought about it, the more she decided it was for the best. A public service, really. Despite his claims that he wasn't living the life of a monk, she had to believe that Steve either hadn't been with a woman yet, or his experience was extremely limited. If anyone needed to get his rocks off, it was the All-American golden boy. It would be good for him to experience a night of torrid lust, and she was more than ready to initiate him into the twenty-first century.

The decision resolved, Natasha turned to face him, prepared to show him the wonders of her mouth when she caught him staring at her, as if he'd found a rare and unworldly specimen of flower. His fingertips brushed the outline of her cheek, curving down to the corner of her lips.

"You are so beautiful," Steve breathed in wonder. "So soft…" He leaned in to kiss her, and Natasha turned her head, pulling away as his words reached something deep inside she didn't want touched. Soft wasn't in her nature. "What's the matter?" he blinked, when she pulled out of his grasp, the bewilderment written across his face mirroring the confusion in her heart.

"Nothing," she insisted, already drawing back into herself to find her comfort zone. "I just don't like being cold and wet."

"I could warm you up." His hands slid around her waist, lips curving into a smile that was sexier than he had a right to be, but she found the strength to resist it, gently but firmly removing his hands from her body.

"You were right before, you're not up for that." Natasha launched herself out of the tub, catching up a towel to dry off with short, efficient strokes even as Steve stared up at her in dismay.

"Hey, you started this."

"And now I'm ending it." Reasonably dry, despite the wet clothes, she dropped the towel on the floor and left the bathroom in search of her shoes.

"Nat…" The sound of splashing came through the open door as he clambered out of the tub. "Wait…" He appeared moments later, an insufficient towel clasped around his waist with one hand. "What did I do wrong?"

Natasha didn't look up from lacing her running shoes. If she looked at him, she might break. Instead, she made her voice light. "Nothing. This massage doesn't come with a happy ending, that's all."

"I thought you wanted… I thought…"

_Chyort. _ Why did he have to sound so wounded? It took every ounce of her training to look up at him without betraying the turmoil she felt inside. "I tried something and it didn't work. I'm going out for a run, I'll be back later."

The furrow deepened on his brow and her fingers itched to smooth it away. Instead, she walked away, only to have him catch her arm, holding her fast. "Don't go like this."

"Don't go like what?" she said, staring back at him blankly before forcing a wry twist of the lips. "Don't worry about it, we're fine." Wrenching her arm free, Natasha left before she did something stupid like kiss him.

"Natasha…" His voice chased after her, but luckily Steve did not.

She ignored the slight discomfort from the damp shorts and sports bra, choosing the stairs instead of the elevator, pushing herself to take them faster and faster. But no matter how swiftly she moved, she couldn't outrun that damned lilac.

Long ago Natasha had accepted that parts of her were broken. Missing. She'd been ripped apart and sewn together into this beautiful, lethal thing, but no one ever noticed the way things were jumbled up inside to fit all the rage. Barton had seen it; he'd seen plenty. He knew how to respect her moods – when to chivy her out of them, and when to leave her to them. In the end that was what kept them from getting any closer than the bond they shared – they knew each other _too_ well. And that was fine, it was comfortable. It was enough. At least, it had been.

It'd been stupid to think she could achieve that level of casual intimacy with Steve. Of course Steve couldn't handle it, he had to make things real. Well, she could never hope to have anything real with Steve. Once he saw, once he knew what was under the pretty package…

**A/N: Phew... that didn't exactly go as planned for Nat, did it? Well, what did you guys think? **

**~ Feedback is Love ~**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I don't own Cap or any of the characters, but I do like to take them for a spin every now and again…**

**I know, poor Steve, he's so confused. And poor Natasha, she's got some serious issues. Good thing he's a patient man. **

~Natasha~

It was after dark by the time Natasha slipped into the apartment with an armload of groceries, half expecting it to be empty. Instead she found Steve sitting at the kitchen table with her laptop open in front of him.

"Make yourself at home, why don't you?" she smirked, strolling past him into the open kitchen. He didn't say anything at first, merely snapped the laptop closed, but she got the impression he was working himself up to some fairly heavy words, so she kept on talking. "It's a good thing for you they know me at the little Russian market down the street, or you'd be having protein shakes for dinner since you cleaned out my icebox."

The deflection worked, all Steve said was, "Is that where you've been this whole time? I thought you were just going for a run."

Had he been worried about her? It was an odd sentiment to digest; most people knew only too well how she could take care of herself. Not fully knowing how to process the concern, she ignored it. "I stopped off at the gym to get in a better workout." That and to shower away the damned lilac before she set fire to her clothes. "Plus, I wanted to give you plenty of private time to work out your own…" her eyes dipped below his waist, where the last time she'd seen him had been standing at attention, "…issues."

Steve blushed to the tips of his ears, and she wasn't sure if it was because he had or hadn't worked out his sexual frustration. The thought of him taking himself in hand was enough to bring a tingle of warmth, and she rapidly pushed it away, turning her back on him as she stowed away the groceries.

The silence stretched between them, which suited her just fine. For a moment, she thought she might've dodged a bullet and Steve would be too chicken or gentlemanly to bring it up again, but no such luck. "What happened back there?" he asked, following her into the kitchen.

Natasha kept her voice teasing. "Come on, Rogers, I thought you at least knew _some_ things about the birds and the bees. Do I really have to explain what happens between a man and a woman when the clothes come off?"

"You know that's not what I meant," he glowered, jaw tightening over the dig. "You're the one who came in there without knocking in the first place, when you knew I'd be in the tub. Why did you do that?"

"I did knock, I just didn't wait for a response before I entered," she clarified. "And I already told you, I tried something and it didn't work out. Can't we just forget about it? It's really not that big of a deal."

"It is to me."

"Which is _exactly_ why it's a bad idea," she returned with a pointed look, and that furrow appeared on his brow again. "I thought maybe you could handle it, but clearly you can't, so I aborted the mission. That's all there is to it." If she said it enough times, it might make it true.

"What, casual sex?"

"Good for you, Steve," she smiled, impressed he hadn't shied away from calling a spade a spade. "I didn't think you'd be able to come out and say it. Yes, casual sex. What else?"

"Don't you think it _should_ be a big deal between two people? It's a pretty big step."

"Sure, if it was our prom night and you'd swiped us a bottle out of your parent's liquor cabinet, before driving us up to Lover's Lane to do things my father would never approve of. I'm way past that step, and I thought you were too. But I guess you just like to talk a big game when you claim to be getting more action than a kiss on the escalator. It's just sex, Rogers. To most people all it is, is a way to scratch an itch."

"And that's what I am to you? A convenient way to scratch that itch?"

"No, you're a pain in my ass, which is why I spent the entire afternoon avoiding you. If I'd known you were gonna be such a woman about it, I might not have come home at all."

"Oh, I'm the woman? You're the one with all the irrational mood swings," he glowered, brows drawing together before he closed his eyes, his shoulders taking on a slump. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

The barb actually made it easier to look at him, until he started beating himself up over it. "Don't be so hard on yourself, Rogers. That's what people do when they fight. It's good for you." She patted him lightly on the shoulder. "Next time say something really mean, like ask me if it's that time of the month."

He stared at her in bewilderment. "I don't want to be mean to you. Nat, that's the whole point. Look, I don't know what this is between us…"

"There's nothing between us," she cut him off before he ventured into the dangerous territory she'd been dead set on avoiding. "We're teammates, nothing more."

"Maybe before, but now…"

"No, not before, not now," she scowled when he didn't drop it. "You had your shot and you blew it by getting too personal."

"Too personal?" Both his brows shot sky high. "How does someone get too personal for sex? You're the one who had your hands all over me."

"And you couldn't keep your dumb mouth shut to enjoy it," she snapped, taking a moment to breathe before she really lost it. When she spoke again, her voice was light. "It's not your fault, you're from a different era. I just forgot since you got a new haircut is all. It won't happen again."

Understanding rippled across his features, leaving him slack jawed. "This is because I said you were beautiful? How is that too personal?"

Not willing to go there, she ignored the question. "You know, I am really hungry. I picked up some chicken, what do you want with it, rice or pasta?"

Taking his example from her, Steve ignored her ploy, grabbing hold of her upper arm to force her to look at him. "Damn it, stop shutting me out."

"Don't be dramatic," she retorted. "I'm not shutting you out, I'm just not interested."

"The hell you're not." Steve gripped her other arm, tight enough to keep her from turning away, but his thumbs feathered lightly over her skin, sending a flutter deep in her belly. "Don't pretend like you don't want this as much as I do."

Still, she managed to inject a note of disdain into her voice. "I think you're slightly over exaggerating my interest in you."

"Why won't you give me a chance? What are you afraid of?"

"Not of you," she snorted. _That was the biggest lie of them all._

"Then kiss me." He drew her closer, his breath fanning across her cheek and her mouth went dry.

His bright gaze held Natasha prisoner, and her tongue darted out to moisten her lips of its own volition before she recovered her voice. "We've already kissed once, as I recall it, and I was less than wowed at the time."

"Fine," he replied, taking her criticism in stride. "Then let me kiss you like I mean it, for once, instead of by surprise or in a coma."

Her eyes widened, and he knew his half memories were more truth than fantasy. She _had_ kissed him while he'd lingered in the space between life and death, and she couldn't take it back. "Go ahead then, get it out of your system," she bluffed. Maybe then he'd drop it and they could go back to normal. It was just a kiss. She could take it.

His hold on her eased, and Steve nodded to himself, moistening his lips. "So, I'm going to kiss you then."

"Yep, that's the general idea," she sighed, unable to keep the smirk from forming. Steve was so adorably clueless sometimes. Now that he'd won his point, he seemed less than eager to take the spoils of war. He swallowed, taking a hesitant step closer before his shoulders rolled back, prepared to do battle. Natasha prepared herself for a fumbling, goody two-shoes, soft attempt to woo her with romance.

When Steve made his move, it was none of those things.

The kiss wasn't all rainbows and lollipops, it was hot as hell. His lips closed over hers, warm and supple, coaxing a response out of her by complete surprise. He seized upon that brief moment of weakness, his tongue sweeping out to meet hers in a sensual slide she felt all the way to her toes. Almost before she knew what was happening, Natasha found herself kissing him back, something inside her kindling to the spark that sprang up between them.

Steve took control every bit as much as he did in the field of battle, waging a war on not just her mouth, but her entire body, and she joyfully became his captive, a willing slave to his touch. Her hands slipped up under his t-shirt, caressing the hard ridges of muscle, careful with the sensitive scar tissue that would likely be completely gone in a couple of days.

Somehow they ended up on the bed, though she had no memory of moving. There was nothing hesitant about his touch as he molded her body to his, leaving no doubt just how much he wanted her. For a while she lost herself in the sea of sensations, but when his fingers slid up her inner thigh, her hand automatically clamped over his, twisting his wrist at a painful angle. Steve's lips immediately backtracked, sucking in a sharp breath, and she let him go with a rueful curve of the lips. "Sorry, reflex."

"It's okay. I was getting too fresh anyway. All you agreed to was a kiss and I should've respected that."

"No, you were fine. I was signaling you full steam ahead. But maybe we should slow things down." _Slow things down? _Why was she acting like such a girl? What happened to the whole scratch an itch conversation? Here Steve was, showing he had the same big boy urges she did, and she shut him down? Where was her head at? Doubts swirled in Natasha's mind, part of her wanting to say screw it and teach Steve a thing or two about women, but the dry voice in the back of her head won out. The one that knew once she took that step, it'd be impossible to go back to the way things were between them. She just wasn't ready for that. Maybe she never would be.

Any normal guy might've bristled over the rapid about face, but Steve simply nodded, accepting it with grace. "Sure, whatever you want," he agreed, withdrawing his hand in understanding.

"It's just, getting late, and… I haven't eaten all day." Now she really was losing it. She didn't owe him an explanation, and from the look on his face, he'd pretty much guessed that wasn't why she'd stopped him. But he didn't press her to open up or talk about her feelings, thank God. Instead, he fixed her with that little smile, the one that made her want to believe everything would be alright.

"It's okay, I'm not going anywhere." He looked deeply into her eyes and she believed him. Come hell or high water he'd be there for her, if she let him. The question was – would she let him?

After a few moments, his mood shifted, his voice lighter. "What do you want for dinner, rice or pasta?"

"Ah, either one is fine," she shrugged, still pulling herself together after her unexpected reaction to his kiss.

"I'll surprise you then." Steve rolled off the bed to head for the kitchen.

"You already did," she murmured, soft enough that he probably didn't hear it. At least, she hoped he didn't.

"And don't you forget it," he called back over his shoulder, a wide grin on his face as he strode into the kitchen.

**A/N: So, what did you think? I've always thought of Steve as inexperienced, but not a bumbling fool when it comes to kissing. Sure, he can get tongue tied with the best of them, but he's intuitive and a fast learner, and once he gets going, he's definitely got the dexterity to send a woman's pulse into overdrive. **

**I'm still trying to keep up with the updating on Fridays pace, so look for the next chapter in a week from Steve's POV.**

**~ Feedback is Love ~**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: I don't own Cap or any of the characters, but I do like to take them for a spin every now and again…**

**I'm loving all the reviews, so thanks for sending them! Yes, Steve's not about to shy away from this thing with Natasha. He's never been one to run away from something worth fighting for. **

~Steve~

Dinner was awkward, there were no two ways about it. Natasha had retreated within herself following the kiss, and he wasn't sure what to do about it. She was so hard to get a read on, he couldn't tell if he was getting to her or not. Scratch that – he was definitely getting to her – he just didn't know if it was in a good or a bad way. For the time being, he gave her some space, staying out of her way while she did whatever it was she was doing on her laptop, and he devoured most of a book on the Cold War.

When it was time to turn in for the night, he grabbed a pillow and a blanket and headed for the couch, only to be stopped before he got three feet away from the bed.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, hands on her hips.

"I figured you might want some space."

"Well, you figured wrong. Get in the bed."

His brow furrowed with confusion. "I thought you wanted to take things slow."

"I didn't say strip down and let me ride you like a bronco, I said get in the bed," she smirked. "Or do I have to remind you…"

"I have to do what you want today, I remember," he waved her off. So far he seemed to be the one benefitting from that the most, but he wasn't about to complain if she wanted to give him another massage. As long as it didn't end in another cold shower for him. "Any other commands while we're at it?" His brows raised hopefully, but she didn't ask for a anything right off the bat.

"I think maybe we should extend it for a week," she considered aloud. "I was gone for too much of today."

"No deal, you're the one who changed it to a single day in the first place. It's not my fault you wasted it."

"I didn't…" Whatever she'd been about to say, Natasha changed her mind, hooking a thumb toward the bed. "Get in bed," she ordered in a disgruntled growl which only made him smile, a new idea taking form.

"Now if you wanted a rematch tomorrow, that could definitely be arranged." The thought of having an excuse to grapple with her on the mat was enough to make him strategically place a pillow over his lap as he sat to kick off his shoes.

"Why, are you in the mood to get your ass kicked again?"

"You'd be surprised what a good night's sleep will do for a guy like me," he pointed out with a tiny smile of confidence. He was already recovered from their earlier sparring match and the injuries that had him walking stooped over just the day before were already fading fast.

"Maybe we should settle this tonight then." A light of interest came into her eyes that made him groan with frustrated desire.

"I'm not so sure that's a good idea."

"Why not?" she challenged.

He knew what he was supposed to say. He was supposed to shrug it off and give her the space he'd promised, but that part of him that liked surprising her replied, "Because if I get that close to you right now, I might not want to let you go again."

Natasha stared back at him, her thoughts hidden behind those mysterious green eyes. "Tomorrow then," she said, looking away hastily, and he could see he'd rattled her.

Steve peeled off his shirt, folding it neatly and stowing it away in the bottom of his duffel bag. "Tomorrow I'm going to have to pick up some more clothes from my apartment. I'm about out of the stuff someone brought to me at the hospital."

"I didn't think I'd be inviting you to stay with me at the time."

"Why _did_ you invite me?" He was under the impression it was a spur of the moment thing, but she didn't seem the type to give in to those impulses.

She was silent for long moments, and when she spoke, her voice was teasing. "Somebody had to keep an eye on you, and I couldn't trust Sam to do it."

"Why not? He's a big boy?"

"Boy being the operative word there. He's essentially a big child. The first time you tried to push yourself too far, he'd never stand up to you, and you'd end up getting hurt all over again."

"But you do. You've definitely never shied away from doing whatever you wanted, no matter who's in charge."

"You'd better believe it," she smiled, grabbing a few things from the closet and disappearing into the bathroom.

Steve quickly stripped down to his boxers and climbed into bed, lying flat on his back so as not to stare when she came back into the room. Not that it helped him. The instant the door opened, his head swiveled of its own volition, and he watched her pad barefoot across the room to hit the light, dressed in another soft tank top and tiny sleep shorts.

Grateful for the shrouding darkness, he felt the mattress dip as she slid into the bed beside him, her breath blowing across his cheek as she turned to face him, closer than he'd thought. Considering whether he should turn away to give her a modicum of privacy, or sneak a peek as his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he was startled by the press of icy feet against his leg.

"Sorry, my toes are freezing," she apologized, withdrawing them immediately.

"I don't mind," Steve replied, missing the contact, despite the shock of cold. "I tend to run a bit hotter than most."

"So I've noticed." A few seconds later the toes returned, rubbing softly up and down the back of his calf. Maddening. "I'm sorry I was such a bitch before. You know before I left."

"_Is it_ that time of the month?"

"Funny, Rogers." She punched him on the shoulder, and he couldn't help but laugh over her disgruntled tone.

"It's okay. I don't think either one of us quite expected today to go like it did." At least he sure as hell hadn't. Though he'd spent a glum, solitary afternoon, he'd gladly suffer that and more for the chance to kiss her again. "We'll figure it out."

"Will we?" There was no mockery in her voice now, the darkness allowing her a shade of vulnerability, and he reached for her hand to touch, not trap.

"Yeah, of course we will." It might not come easily, but most things that were worth it didn't.

"How can you always be so goddamned upbeat all the time? How do you know I'll figure it out?"

It didn't slip past him that she questioned whether she'd figure it out, as if she expected self sabotage, but he deflected that question to address her other point. "I'm not up all the time. In fact, I've been accused of brooding way too much. By you, as a matter of fact." He tapped the back of her hand. "As for how I know we'll figure it out, like I said, I'm not going anywhere. We have plenty of time, and you're a smart lady. Most of the time," he added with a teasing smile.

If she saw the smile, Natasha gave no sign of it. "Smart has nothing to do with it. Sometimes things just crash and burn."

"And sometimes they don't," he insisted with a stubborn squeeze of the hand. "Take it from someone who's crashed and lived to tell the tale, life goes on. The arguments, the fighting, those memories don't last. What counts are the good times."

"And you think we'll have good times?" She didn't sound too sure of that, and Steve wrapped an arm around her, holding her close.

"I think we're having one now."

After a few moments of silence, she relaxed in his arms. "Me too."

Steve smiled in the darkness, holding her demons at bay until she fell fast asleep.

**A/N: So, what do you think? Do they have a shot at happiness, or are they too different? Next up, they try an actual date.**

**~ Feedback is Love ~**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: I don't own Cap or any of the characters, but I do like to take them for a spin every now and again…**

**And now, Steve and Natasha do their best to spend the day together like normal people. **

~Natasha~

The next morning, Steve showed up at her side of the bed, tray in hand, with juice, toast, eggs and fresh fruit.

"What's this?"

"Haven't you heard? Breakfast is the most important meal of the day."

It was the way he said it that got to her. As though it was no big deal, not some supreme effort he'd gone through to impress her, that little smile hovering over his lips. It was such a normal thing – two people sharing a meal together, made more intimate by the thoughtful gesture given without expectations.

It was too much.

A lump rose in her throat as her eyes grew shiny with unshed tears. "Excuse me." Natasha bolted for the bathroom, her lungs seizing up as she slammed the door behind her and turned the hot water on in the sink, full blast. Steam began to cloud the mirror and she leaned over the bowl, breathing deeply until the tightness eased, her hair curling damply around her face.

This wasn't how she operated – she didn't do leisurely breakfast in bed, that was for normal people. She couldn't function like this, she'd given up that part of herself a long time ago. Sex was one thing, but she sure as hell couldn't be seriously contemplating a relationship with Rogers, of all people.

Speak of the devil, a soft knock came on the bathroom door. Looking up, she met her eyes in the mirror, the sheen of tears still threatening, and she closed them tight.

"Natasha?"

"I just need a minute," she called back, dipping a washcloth into the scalding water and relishing the burn as she pressed it to her face. Only when her mask was back in place did she turn off the water – but still – she hesitated at the door, feeling his presence through it.

He seemed to guess she was standing there on the other side of the door, his voice soft and gentle. "It's not a crime to let me see you feel things," he ventured.

Was that what she was doing? Feeling things? Why the hell was it so unnerving? Squaring her shoulders, she pulled open the door. "I'm fine. I'm just allergic to orange juice," she quipped, meeting his gaze brazenly.

"And that's why you had it in your fridge…" His smile let her know she wasn't fooling him one bit, but she stuck with it.

"I was trying to be a polite host."

"Well, it worked." Steve leaned in and stole a brief kiss, capturing her hand to tug her back to the bed. "Come on and eat, before it gets cold."

Natasha let herself be led, joining him on top of the covers for a breakfast picnic and coffee the way she liked it – but she purposefully avoided the orange juice, just to make a stubborn point. Steve didn't seem to mind, he polished off everything she didn't eat, reminding her that he was going to end up eating her out of house and home if stayed too much longer. Strangely, that didn't seem to trouble her.

After breakfast, she excused herself to the bathroom for a hot shower, feeling much more like herself when she emerged – until she found Steve doing pull-ups, and all she could do was stop and watch the spectacle. He was right, a good night's sleep had done a lot to restore his vigor. Finally, he hopped down, and she looked away, caught staring.

"Hey, did you save me any hot water?" he asked, his voice tight as he stared at her in a towel. For some reason she didn't feel bold enough to drop it, as she had the other morning. Not now.

"A bit."

They stared at each other, the tension building as they drifted closer, the pull to touch him making her hands clutch the towel tight enough to turn her knuckles white.

"Let's get out of here," Steve said suddenly, breaking the mood.

Natasha blinked, he'd thrown her for a loop, as she'd been sure he was about to make another move – and she might've let him. "And do what?"

"Whatever we want. We could go for a walk, eat lunch in the park, I hear they have these things called talking pictures now," he teased.

"Funny," she smiled. "We just ate breakfast, you can't seriously be hungry for lunch already."

"Well, we wouldn't start off with lunch. The idea is we make a day of it."

"You mean just do nothing all day?"

"It's not nothing, it's down time. Everybody needs it."

"I don't."

"_Everybody_ needs it," he insisted, giving her a pointed look.

"So… we go to the mall and get frozen yogurt and you hold my purse while I try on shoes?" Her voice was heavy with sarcasm, but Steve didn't let it weigh him down.

"If that's what you want to do," he accepted easily enough.

"You mean act like normal people?

"Sure, why not?"

If he didn't understand why, she wasn't sure she could explain it. "I'm not that girl," she said finally.

"And I'm not asking you to be," he replied, holding up a hand to stem her words. "But maybe, just maybe, you might like it every once in a while."

"Like what?"

"Stopping to smell the roses."

"Roses have thorns," she smirked.

"And so do you, they're still beautiful to look at. Come on, get dressed." He clapped his hands and she raised a single brow.

"You're pretty bossy, you know that?"

"I'm used to giving orders, that's all," he smiled, stalking closer. "Do I need to give you one now?"

"Don't push it." Her hands met the solid wall of his chest and kept him from crowding any closer. "Fine. You go shower and I'll get dressed. I'm not taking one of those carriage rides through the park though, so get that out of your thick skull."

He laughed, deep and hearty, and she felt lighter than she had in… maybe never.

* * *

They held hands in the movies.

Went to a dark bar and shot a game of pool in the middle of the day with all the other barflies who didn't clock a nine to five. After lunch in the park, and they joined a pick up game of tag football on opposing teams, tackling each other with abandon in spite of the rules. Even still a little stiff and sore, Captain America dazzled on the playing field, and his team won, despite her best efforts.

They skipped the mall but did a fair amount of window shopping, her arm tucked around his when the wind picked up to steal the heat that poured off of him like a furnace. She stopped to admire a music box that played _Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy,_ and he had to be dragged away from the sports memorabilia display.

The daylight faded, but still, they stayed out, grabbing a couple of hotdogs from a street vendor (okay, he ate four to her one). Somehow, they ended up in front of a 1940's dance club, the music spilling out into the street as apple cheeked girls, dressed in seamed stockings, with rolled hair dragged their boyfriends in.

"How about we go in here?" Natasha suggested, when he would've walked on by. "This is kind of your thing, isn't it?"

"Ah… the music is," he admitted. "But I've been trying to live in the now."

"Living in the now doesn't mean you have to forget the past. The trick is to blend them into something new." Something she was still working on. For the most part Natasha tried to bury her past, but now… With the demolition of Hydra, her past was laid bare for the world to see. Sooner or later she'd have to embrace it, just like she was advising him to.

Indecision warred on Steve's face. "I don't know. I've never really…"

"There are a lot of things you haven't done yet. There's a first time for everything, isn't there?" she smiled, and a couple of heartbeats later, he returned it.

"Yeah, there is."

"Come on, I'll be gentle with you." Savoring the taste of victory, she tugged him toward the club entrance.

Steve allowed himself to be led, but wasn't wholly convinced yet. "We're not really dressed for this," he objected.

"Oh, please. This isn't a costume bar. There will be plenty of people wearing regular street clothes."

"I know, it just doesn't feel right to go into a club like this in dungarees."

God, he was adorable. "We could always dig up your old service uniform and come back sometime, but for now, let's keep it low key, huh?"

They started off getting a drink and watching some of the dancers. They were good, and entertaining to watch – if a little intimidating for Steve. Finally, she took the drink out of his hand and led him to the dance floor during a slow number. He was awkward at first, not sure what to do with his hands, and he did little more than lumber back and forth to the beat of the music, but eventually he relaxed, his natural grace and dexterity asserting itself. He even surprised her by being game for the next song, a faster one, following her lead until he caught the hang of it. They moved well together, her natural agility and talent more than making up for his inexperience, and soon he was swinging her around with ease, his grin a mile wide.

Natasha laughed more on that dance floor than she could remember doing in the past year, only stopping to wet her parched throat with a beer and then they hopped right back into the fray. They settled into a slower dance, his hands comfortable on her curves now, squiring her with confidence.

"I have to say, I didn't think this would really be your thing," he observed, bringing a smile to her lips.

"There are a lot of things you don't know about me."

"You do keep surprising me," he smiled, tucking the hair back behind her ear.

"I'm going to tell you a secret about women, Rogers. All girls love to dance, it's encoded into our DNA. Learn and you'll never want for a partner."

"Trouble is, I don't want just any partner."

The way he said it robbed the breath from her body. For the first time Natasha realized she wanted to _be_ that partner more than anything. "You have to start somewhere," she replied, unable to say what she was feeling.

Somehow, it felt like he knew anyway, his smile never dimming. "I like where I am now."

"So do I," she said softly, leaning her head against his shoulder as they danced.

**A/N: A little bit of a rough start there, but they finally made it to a normal type date! What did you think? The night's not over yet.**

**~ Feedback is Love ~**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: I don't own Cap or any of the characters, but I do like to take them for a spin every now and again…**

**Thanks for all the positive comments, guys! I'm having a lot of fun spending time with these characters. I should restate that this story takes place outside of the Avengers: Age of Ultron canon with regards to certain teammate relationships that have been established. And now the date, continued. **

~Steve~

It was dark when they made it back to her apartment building, and Steve was reluctant to go back to the real world, wanting to hang onto the magic of the day. From the moment they stepped into the elevator, he noticed a subtle shift in her body language, and she dropped his hand when she pushed the button for her floor. When Nat unlocked the door, she immediately went for the laptop, but he stopped her hand with his, reaching past her to cue up the music folder.

"How about one more dance?" he asked, clicking on the first song he recognized, one he'd heard her play before, with a slow, throbbing beat.

Natasha looked up in surprise when he chose the song, but she let him wrap an arm around her waist, and he took that as a good sign. He held her close, his heart pumping faster when she draped her arm around his shoulders and took his hand. There were no fancy steps or swinging acrobatics, just the two of them pressed close, their breath mingling. She was so beautiful, but he didn't make the mistake of saying so this time. Instead, he sank his fingers into her windswept tresses and tipped those luscious lips up to meet his, figuring it'd be worth it if she kicked his ass for trying. Only Natasha didn't pull away, she flowed against him as if she was made just for him. He tasted desire in her kiss, and a longing that matched his own.

A _shave and a haircut_ knock sounded seconds before the door opened, and Natasha sprang out of his arms, hugging tight to her elbows as Clint entered, his brows drawn together in exasperation. "Would you stop listening to that weepy music? Let's go grab a beer and… Oh, hey, Steve," Clint smiled easily, clueless to what he'd walked in on.

"Hi," Steve replied, while Natasha simply looked on, uncomfortably silent.

"What's going on?" Clint frowned, keying into the tension, but not the reason why. "Is there some kind of problem? There's not a new threat, is there? I thought everything was under control."

"No, it is," she replied, and Steve was amused to see her reach back and knock wood against the dining room table. Somehow he'd never thought of her as superstitious before.

Barton eased at that, looking between them. "So, what are you guys up to? A little informal strategy session?"

"No, I'm staying here for a few days," Steve replied, to which Natasha shot him a look of pure annoyance. "Well, I am, aren't I?" He couldn't imagine a reason why it should be a secret.

"He's staying here?" Barton's brows shot up at that revelation, and Tasha's hands came up in a supplicating gesture.

"Just for a few days." She seemed almost guilty about it, and Steve had to wonder just how deep their friendship ran.

"Is there something wrong with your apartment?" The look Clint shot him was anything but friendly, and it pricked at Steve's nerves – already on edge with Natasha's odd behavior.

"I don't know, I haven't been back since it was redecorated with Nick's blood," he retorted.

Clint was unimpressed with the dig. "It's not like he's really dead."

"Guys…" Natasha's voice was low and tightly controlled, but they ignored her.

"How did you know that?" Steve frowned. "It's supposed to be a secret." He could count the number of people who were supposed to know that Nick survived on one hand.

Clint gave him a pointed look. "Give me some credit, won't you? I've been working for Shield for a bit longer than you have."

Barton's attitude wore on Steve's last nerve, and he edged forward, his chin coming up. "And yet you never noticed it was completely infiltrated by Hydra."

Not about to be cowed, Barton met his advance head on. "I didn't see you making that connection either, and you're the one with a personal history with them."

"Hey!" Natasha interjected, louder this time. "You guys want me to leave so you can whip them out and piss all over each other? Don't mind me, it's nothing I haven't seen before."

"Since when have you seen him naked?" Clint asked at the same time Steve said,

"You've seen him naked?"

"I'm done with this conversation." Natasha shook her head, snatching up her keys on the way to the door. "Get into a fist fight if you want, just try to take it easy on the furniture, okay?"

"Where are you going?" Steve asked, torn between trying to stop her and knocking the scowl off of Barton's face.

"Wherever not here is," she muttered, slamming the door behind her on the way out.

"Thanks a lot," Steve scowled, taking his frustration out on Clint. "I spend all day trying to get her to open up to me, and two minutes with you and she's got that wall up around her again."

"That wall is there for a reason. You'd know that if you spent the kind of time with her I have," Clint retorted.

"That wall is killing her. You'd know that if you bothered to try and see past it." He looked up at the closed door, already half committed in his mind to going after her when the punch came out of left field.

"That's for standing there mouthing off like you know her. I've seen her more naked than you ever will."

Steve's blue eyes narrowed, hands clenching into fists with the need to punch something, but he reigned in the urge to rearrange Clint's face. "And she still felt the need to build that wall and keep you on the other side of it. That tells me a lot." Clint's hand reared back to punch him again and Steve caught it easily, stopping it mid-air. "Just don't," he warned.

Clint stared back at him over the top of their joined fists before he dropped his arm, rolling the tension from his shoulders. "Whatever it is you think you feel for her, get it out of your head that she returns it."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"I really do," Clint replied with a soulful stare, and Steve could tell just how deep the archer's feelings ran for Natasha. The silence stretched between them, and then Clint relaxed, retrieving a couple of beers from the fridge and offering one to Steve. "She's not like other women."

Steve accepted the beer, stretching his jaw where he'd taken the punch before settling down on the couch. "I know, that's what I like about her."

"No, you're not getting it." Barton plopped down beside him, taking a deep pull on the bottle. "She's wired differently. She's female on the outside, but inside she's too damaged, even for someone who's just as fucked up as she is, like me."

Steve mulled that over for a few seconds, taking a slow drink before he spoke. "Maybe she doesn't need someone who's like her? Maybe she needs someone who can show her a different way to be."

"And you think that's you?" Clint snorted.

"I aim to find out."

"Good luck with that. Just don't say I didn't warn you."

**A/N: So yeah, like I said, I'm not going with the personal histories established in Age of Ultron since this one is set before that came out. I've always thought that Clint and Tasha were too similar to really make things work, but she's let him closer than anyone else in her life. I think Steve's right though – maybe what she needs is someone who pushes her out of her comfort zone to become something more than she thinks she's capable of. What do you guys think?**

**~ Feedback is Love ~**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: I don't own Cap or any of the characters, but I do like to take them for a spin every now and again…**

**Thanks again for all the supportive reviews! Nothing makes me happier than seeing one pop up in my inbox. I keep forgetting that I like to include a little bit of the prior chapter to remind you what was happening. **

_Clint stared back at him over the top of their joined fists before he dropped his arm, rolling the tension from his shoulders. "Whatever it is you think you feel for her, get it out of your head that she returns it."_

"_You don't know what you're talking about."_

"_I really do," Clint replied with a soulful stare, and Steve could tell just how deep the archer's feelings ran for Natasha. The silence stretched between them, and then Clint relaxed, retrieving a couple of beers from the fridge and offering one to Steve. "She's not like other women."_

_Steve accepted the beer, stretching his jaw where he'd taken the punch before settling down on the couch. "I know, that's what I like about her." _

"_No, you're not getting it." Barton plopped down beside him, taking a deep pull on the bottle. "She's wired differently. She's female on the outside, but inside she's too damaged, even for someone who's just as fucked up as she is, like me."_

_Steve mulled that over for a few seconds, taking a slow drink before he spoke. "Maybe she doesn't need someone who's like her? Maybe she needs someone who can show her a different way to be."_

"_And you think that's you?" Clint snorted._

"_I aim to find out."_

"_Good luck with that. Just don't say I didn't warn you."_

* * *

~Natasha~

It was late by the time Natasha made it back to her apartment. Briefly, she'd considered holing up for the night somewhere else, but a small, insistent part of her wanted to make sure the two hadn't really erupted into bloodshed. That small part of her got naggingly louder and louder as the hours dragged on, until she found herself back at the apartment. Would Steve still be there, or had Barton chased him off?

Listening at the door, she mentally kicked her own ass for hesitating outside her own place, and opened the door. Steve sat at the breakfast bar eating a bowl of something crunchy, because _of course_ he was eating again. "Is it safe to enter?" she asked, making a show of looking around. "I don't want to get testosterone poisoning."

Steve never looked up from the bowl. "Barton's gone."

His lack of expression bothered her more than she liked, and Nat tried to draw him out, wanting to see him smile. "Did you stuff him down the garbage chute?"

He didn't laugh, but he did stop eating and put his bowl in the sink. "That wouldn't be my first choice of getting rid of the competition, no."

"There's no competition. Barton's just looking out for me, like he always does."

"If you say so."

Damn it, this was why she didn't do relationships, she always ended up misreading the situation. Steve wasn't in the mood to laugh, he was depressed or jealous or... something completely beyond her capacity for understanding. Turning her back on him, she focused on the things she could control – which at present didn't amount to much more than cleaning up the kitchen.

"We should talk."

Those three little words chilled her to the bone, and Natasha withdrew into herself, the way she always did. One glance at his face told her exactly what he wanted to talk about, and she didn't want to go there. All she wanted to do was stop feeling the way she did – unsure and hesitant. Since when did she feel hesitant and unsure about anything? Those feelings could get her killed in the field. But she wasn't in the field now, was she? So why did she feel like she was under siege?

Natasha didn't look at him, affecting a light grumble as she stared at the sink. "God, Steve, how much did you eat while I was gone? Why do I always get stuck with the dishes just because I'm the girl," she muttered, loading up the dishwasher.

"I'll do them later. Let's talk first."

Doing her best to ignore him, she started cleaning the kitchen as though her life depended on it, scrubbing at the already spotless counter with a vengeance.

He moved up right behind her; she could feel his close presence even though she hadn't turned her head. "Nat, would you look at me for a minute?"

She couldn't. She couldn't let him see how rattled she was, how off her game. There was no familiar footing here, it was a dance she didn't know the steps to. "We don't have to do this right now, do we? It's late."

"You can take it." Steve leaned close to hold his hand out in her field of vision, palm up and open. After a moment's hesitation, she took it. "We had a good day today, remember?"

"I do." It seemed a world away, that lighter feeling that'd chipped away at the walls around her heart. But what did it say about her that they'd snapped back into place so quickly?

"You want to tell me why that all went to hell when Barton showed up? What is he to you?"

"He's a friend." The answer rolled off her tongue fast. It wasn't even a lie, but it wasn't the complete truth either. There was no judgment in Steve's face, but she could tell he wasn't buying it.

"We just started this dance. I'd like to think I'm not stepping on anyone's toes."

"You're not."

"Clint doesn't seem to feel the same way."

"Barton and I are..." What were they? It wasn't like either one of them had ever tried to define it before. That was part of his charm. They had no expectations of each other, just the way she wanted it. "It's not like that," she insisted.

"You know he'd like it to be though, right?"

"We both know what it is and what it isn't."

"And what is it?"

"Something comfortable. Something safe. Sometimes I need that."

"I can give you that." His fingers closed around hers, his voice gentle, and she ripped her hand away.

"No, there's nothing safe about what you want." Didn't he get that? She'd never felt _less_ safe.

Steve's brows knit together. "Is that what scares you?"

"I haven't been scared of anything since I was nine years old," she scoffed.

"Yes, you have." He didn't taunt her with it, and there was no derision in his eyes. "There's no shame in admitting to fear, Natasha, it's what you choose to do with it. You can't let it define you."

Easy for him to say, he didn't know what it was like to be conditioned against any feelings. Not at all happy with the way the conversation was going, she turned her back on him. "Spare me the pep talk, Rogers. I've been through the company training reel."

"Okay then, how about some straight talk? _I'm_ afraid."

"You can sleep with the hall light on then. Excuse me, I'm getting ready for bed." The first step was the hardest, but it got easier the farther away she got from him. She could do this. She had to. Admit to fear and what came next? Love?

Steve's words chased after her, though he stayed rooted where he was. "I'm scared to death you'll walk away from this, and I'll never get to feel again, the way I feel when I'm with you."

His heartfelt words drew her to a stop, and Steve kept talking, trying to reach her the only way he knew how. "I'm scared to death you'll walk away from _me_, because I pushed you too hard, or not enough. I don't know where that line is with you, Nat."

There was a measure of comfort in hearing him talk like this. She recognized that fear in his voice, the uncertainty – because she felt it too. Without meaning to, she turned to face him, instantly trapped by the emotion in his steadfast blue eyes.

"I don't know how to test the waters without drowning, so I'm going all in. I care about you, Natasha."

She swallowed past a mouth that'd gone dry. "I know, we're friends."

The furrow on his brow deepened to an angry V. "It's more than that, and you know it." His hand closed around her arm, fingers biting deep when she didn't reply. "Say it. Admit that we're more than friends."

Her lips parted, but the words wouldn't come out. She couldn't love him, not the way he deserved to be loved. That part of her was long gone. He couldn't ask that of her, didn't he understand that? She stared back at him, eyes glistening as she fought against her conditioned response.

Steve's jaw thrust forward as he swallowed back the answer in that lack of a reply. Slowly, his hand unwrapped from her arm and dropped to his side. "Then I guess there's nothing more I can say."

**A/N: Okay, I'm sorry to end it on this much of a cliffhanger, but I'm getting ready to release my new book, and it's got me hopping to get everything done in time! I promise I'll have the end of the scene by next Friday. **

**~ Feedback is Love ~**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: I don't own Cap or any of the characters, but I do like to take them for a spin every now and again…**

**I know, I know, I'm evil. I shouldn't have left you guys on such a cliffhanger. Here it is, the rest of the scene as promised. **

"_I don't know how to test the waters without drowning, so I'm going all in. I care about you, Natasha." _

_She swallowed past a mouth that'd gone dry. "I know, we're friends."_

_The furrow on his brow deepened to an angry V. "It's more than that, and you know it." His hand closed around her arm, fingers biting deep when she didn't reply. "Say it. Admit that we're more than friends."_

_Her lips parted, but the words wouldn't come out. She couldn't love him, not the way he deserved to be loved. That part of her was long gone. He couldn't ask that of her, didn't he understand that? She stared back at him, eyes glistening as she fought against her conditioned response. _

_Steve's jaw thrust forward as he swallowed back the answer in that lack of a reply. Slowly, his hand unwrapped from her arm and dropped to his side. "Then I guess there's nothing more I can say."_

* * *

~ Natasha ~

Panic sliced through her at the slump of defeat in his shoulders as he turned away. Still, the words didn't come. Not when he walked away, not until he reached the door and she realized that he might really leave and never look at her the same way ever again. And that was a dark place she didn't want to go to. "Okay, it's more than that," she blurted out, darting across the room to press the door shut when he pulled it open.

Instead of the regret she thought she'd feel at the admission, she felt cleansed, lighter for having shared it with him. Until she realized that the essential facts hadn't changed, she'd jumped in way over her head. "The trouble is, I don't know how much more. I'm not... I can't..." Christ, she'd talked her way out of trouble in eighty-seven countries and she couldn't find the words to express to the one man that mattered why she wasn't free to love him the way he deserved.

Luckily, Steve didn't seem to need it. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. "It's okay. We'll figure it out together."

He seemed so certain. How could he be? "Are you sure you want to try this? I'm..."

"You're what?"

"I'm broken."

"Everybody is, to some extent."

"No, not like this. You don't know." Once he did, one he knew, he wouldn't want her. Not anymore.

"You're right, I don't. I've read your file, but I can't guess at what it's done to you inside."

Her lips parted on a sharp intake of breath. "You read my file? All of it? Not just the ops we revealed when we exposed Hydra?"

"You're on my team," he replied as if that explained everything.

"Fury gave you access to my _sealed_ file?"

"No, he didn't."

"Then how did you...?"

Steve shrugged a single shoulder. "You're on my team. It's my job to know who I can trust."

"And you read my file and decided you can trust _me_?"

"No. I got to know you and decided I can trust you."

"Then you know..." She couldn't even say it.

"I do."

Natasha looked away, unable to meet his gaze. What he must think of the life she'd led, the things she'd done. What had been done to her when she was too young to make the choice for herself, and the choices she'd made since. "And you still want to start something with me?" It didn't seem possible.

"You're more than your past. We all are. Plenty of other girls were put through the same paces, they didn't end up where you are now. _You_ chose to turn your life around. You chose to become the person you are today."

"It doesn't erase the things I've done." _I've got red in my ledger._

"No, but you're on the right path now, and that's all that matters."

He made it sound so simple, but she knew it wasn't. "It's not enough. It'll never be enough to make up for the lives I've taken."

Steve reached up to stroke the underside of her jaw with his thumb. "We all do things we have to live with. Things we're not so proud of. Do you really think I don't understand what it is to regret taking a life? Or to live with the knowledge that the choices I made might end up costing innocent lives in the future? I know that better than most."

Surprised to hear the dark words coming from Captain America, her brow furrowed in confusion. "You're one of the good guys. You deserve better." Better than her frozen heart could give.

"Look at me." He tipped her head up so she couldn't escape the power of his gaze. "You're one of the good guys too. I wouldn't be here with you if I didn't feel it deep in my heart." When he said it like that, she believed him, especially when he set her hand over the thump in his chest. "All these years I've been looking for the right partner. I guess it took a while to figure out that the right partner doesn't mean perfection. It means we're a good fit." His lips stretched into a crooked grin. "I may be a simple guy at heart, but I think we're a good fit."

Natasha's resolve crumpled under the power of that smile. It might be selfish and the biggest mistake she'd ever made, but more than anything, she wanted him to keep looking at her like that. Like she was worthy. Still, honor demanded she make one final attempt to remind him what he might be in for. "I may never be able to give you what you deserve."

"I have a good feeling about us." His smile stretched wider, as if he sensed her near surrender. "If there wasn't any risk, it wouldn't be worth doing."

There was plenty of risk alright. It was probably the riskiest mission she'd ever undertaken. But Natasha felt good about it too. Mired in self doubt, but strangely eager to see where it led. She took a long breath, squaring her shoulders for battle. "So we're doing this? We're... dating?" The word left a bad taste in her mouth.

"If you want to put a label on it," he grinned. "Mostly, I just want to be able to kiss you again without risking a boot in my trachea." He leaned in, but she darted her head to the side.

"Dating doesn't mean you can kiss me whenever you want to."

"Yes, it does," he replied, strong and sure.

"No it..."

Steve slipped his hand beneath her hair, cupping the back of her head as he captured her lips for a searing kiss. Binding her to him with more than words, he showed her what the reward was for the leap of faith they both took. "Yes, it does," he rumbled when the kiss drew to a close.

"Yes, it does," she whispered, utterly astonished to find that she didn't feel threatened by the sudden intimacy; she felt oddly safe in his embrace. He could kiss her like that any time he pleased. Except that the thought opened up another can of worms. "Ah... can we kind of keep it to ourselves? At least for now?"

His rapid blink told her she'd caught him by surprise, but he was more puzzled than anything else. "If you want to. Why?"

"It's just... I don't want to upset Barton if it fizzles out in a week, and I'd hate to have to kill Stark when he shoots his mouth off."

Steve's chuckle reverberated through her. "Sure, it's nobody's business but our own, we can keep it under wraps for now. But it's not going to fizzle out in a week."

Ever the optimist, Natasha just wasn't wired that way. "You can't know that."

"Yes, I can."

"How?"

He brushed his lips over hers again. "Something like this doesn't come along every day."

She couldn't argue with that logic. "No, no it doesn't." She'd kissed more than enough men to know that the fire that sprang up between them was definitely out of the ordinary. Eager to feel that burn, she tipped her lips up to his, the surrender coming more naturally to her now that she knew she could trust her feelings.

The kiss went on and on, until Steve pulled away, inserting a few needed inches of space between them. "I think I should head on home for the night."

Confused, she didn't fight to make him stay, but had to ask, "What for?"

"Now that we're dating, I think I should move back to my place."

"Why?"

"Because as much as I want to respect your personal space, I am a man."

Her eyes traveled the length of his body to the unmistakable bulge in his pants. _Definitely all man._ It was cute the way he wanted to protect her virtue. If he only knew what she wanted to do with him... but she'd promised to take things slowly. Especially if they were going to throw emotions into the mix. But if she was safe with anyone, it'd be Captain America, the perpetual good guy. "I'm sure my honor's safe with you."

There was nothing of the boy scout in his reply. "I'm not."

"Maybe I don't want it to be."

Steve swallowed hard. "Yep, I'd better get going."

It made her smile, this power she had over him. If he thought he was tempted now, he was in for a big surprise if she decided to turn her full seductive persuasion on him. But she decided to cut him a break. "You can relax, big guy, I'm pretty sure we can handle sleeping in the same bed without tearing each other's clothes off. We've been doing it this whole time, haven't we?"

"That was before you kissed me like that."

He had a point, but Natasha just smiled, threading her fingers through his. "Come on, Steve. Let's go to bed, I'm tired. And... I don't want you to leave." That last part was more difficult for her to add, but it turned out to be just the thing to get him to relax.

"You go on and get ready for bed then," he said, turning her by the shoulders and giving her a gentle push in the direction of the bedroom before he headed for the kitchen. "I've got some dishes to do."

**A/N: Okay wow, these last couple of chapters ended up heavier than I'd first intended. So much angst! But good progress for them, I think. It seems to me like Natasha would have to deal with some of her baggage like this before she was ready to jump into something real. What do you guys think?**

**~ Feedback is Love ~**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: I don't own Cap or any of the characters, but I do like to take them for a spin every now and again…**

**Thanks for the reviews! I'm glad you guys liked the way the rest of the last scene ended. **

_It was cute the way he wanted to protect her virtue. If he only knew what she wanted to do with him... but she'd promised to take things slowly. Especially if they were going to throw emotions into the mix. But if she was safe with anyone, it'd be Captain America, the perpetual good guy. "I'm sure my honor's safe with you."_

_There was nothing of the boy scout in his reply. "I'm not."_

"_Maybe I don't want it to be."_

_Steve swallowed hard. "Yep, I'd better get going."_

_It made her smile, this power she had over him. If he thought he was tempted now, he was in for a big surprise if she decided to turn her full seductive persuasion on him. But she decided to cut him a break. "You can relax, big guy, I'm pretty sure we can handle sleeping in the same bed without tearing each other's clothes off. We've been doing it this whole time, haven't we?"_

"_That was before you kissed me like that." _

_He had a point, but Natasha just smiled, threading her fingers through his. "Come on, Steve. Let's go to bed, I'm tired. And... I don't want you to leave." That last part was more difficult for her to add, but it turned out to be just the thing to get him to relax. _

"_You go on and get ready for bed then," he said, turning her by the shoulders and giving her a gentle push in the direction of the bedroom before he headed for the kitchen. "I've got some dishes to do." _

* * *

~ Natasha ~

It'd taken a while to get used to sharing a bed with Steve on a regular basis, but after she'd learned there was no imminent danger when his arm hooked around her waist to pull her closer in the middle of the night, she'd never slept better. Most nights they spent twined together, her stealing his heat, and Steve taking comfort in the soft scent of her hair.

But there was no comfort in his sleep that night.

A light sleeper by necessity, it didn't take much to wake Natasha. Almost from his first twitch, her eyes fluttered open, quickly assessing the dark room and the lack of actual threat. After a few heartbeats, she thought maybe she'd imagined something wrong, until his body jerked again, a pale shadow of the movements in his fevered dreams. His big hands clenched around her, hard enough to sting, but that didn't upset her. What bothered her was the low moan that escaped him, and the pained way his breath hitched.

Distress poured off of him in waves, sending a rush of worry through her. Should she wake him or leave him to fight off his demons?

"Don't..." he breathed, and she made a snap decision, hands rubbing across his chest in soothing circles, growing firmer when he didn't respond right away.

"Shh... Steve? It's okay..."

"No..." He thrashed, and she was forced to pin his arms down to keep him from hurting her as he lashed out.

"Don't worry, I've got you," she crooned, lessening her grip when he stopped fighting her. "You're safe. You're with me." His blue eyes flew open, wide with panic and pain so real it took long seconds to fade into reality.

Steve let out a long, shuddering breath, going still beneath her. "It wasn't me I was worried about," he said, his voice hoarse.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Pulling free from her embrace, he sat up, facing away from her on the bed.

It was a classic deflection, and she let him get away with it, not protesting when he got up to get a drink of water. But when he didn't return to bed, she padded after him on bare feet. Never one to offer her feelings on a platter, nevertheless, Natasha understood the therapeutic benefits to be had in getting things out in the open. "Do you want to talk about it?"

He still stood by the sink, the empty glass on the counter, his hand wrapped around it. "It was just a dream," he replied after too many seconds had passed.

"A pretty vivid one from the sounds of it." When he didn't reply, she took the glass from him and set it in the sink. "Come and sit with me." It wasn't a request, and the Captain followed orders, letting him lead her to the sofa. "Who were you worried about?"

"Huh?"

"You said it wasn't you that you were worried about," she prompted. "So who was it?"

"Oh." His eyes took on a faraway cast as the dream returned. "I was back in the water after the fight on the helicarrier."

It was Natasha who tensed at the mention of that fight. When she'd almost lost him. "Seems like you have a right to be worried about that. You almost didn't make it out of that water."

"I didn't. He pulled me out."

All of a sudden she understood where this was coming from. "You're talking about the Winter Soldier. You don't have to worry about him. You're safe here." With what little resources were left of SHIELD, the Winter Soldier was at the top of their most wanted list. Natasha felt confident they weren't in any real danger from him as long as they stayed in plain sight.

"I'm not worried about that. That's not what the dream was about."

"What was it about then?"

Steve took a long breath, his voice low as they sat on the couch in the dim living room. "We fought, just like we did on the helicarrier, but this time I saw it in his eyes. He _knew_ me. When the explosion came, we fell together, and he shielded me from the worst of the impact, like he always did."

_Like he always did?_ "You almost died because of him."

"It wasn't me dying this time, it was him," Steve insisted, his body canting toward hers as he tried to get her to understand. "He was sinking faster and faster, and I couldn't reach him in time. I couldn't save him. I let him down again, and..." He broke off, swallowing back a lump of emotion.

He was upset because he couldn't save the guy who'd tried to kill him? "That's who you're worried about? The Winter Soldier's safety?" Did he not understand how crazy that sounded?

"I can't fail him again. I have to find him."

Natasha stared at him, at a loss for words until her sarcastic tongue unstuck. "You know, I've been wondering this whole time if you're right in the head, and this clinches it. No one goes after the Winter Soldier and lives to tell about it."

"He's not... He's more than that, he's my friend."

"No, he's not."

"He is," Steve insisted. "You don't know..."

"Yes, I do." She knew all too well. "I know all about your best friend, Bucky. He's not the friend you once knew, Steve. That man is gone."

Steve blinked at her, flinching over the use of Bucky's name. "He was a good man. The best. He's worth saving."

"That's just it, you can't think of him as your friend any more," she said softer, trying to soothe him past the loss of that dream. "Especially not after what he did to you."

"There's still good in him, I felt it. He saved me..."

"After he threw you off a helicarrier!" Natasha snapped, her emotions cracking through as the memory of him lying on that bank flooded back to her. The way he'd looked so still and lifeless, his lips tinged blue. She hadn't been able to breathe and she had trouble now until she forced a deep breath. "He's already lost to the dark side. It's from a movie," she added, after seeing the pucker of a frown on his forehead, but he waved her off.

"I know."

"Look, maybe he did drag you out of the water, but that doesn't mean the man you once knew is still in there."

"And it doesn't mean it's not. I won't know until I find him."

"Okay, you officially fail your psyche eval. I'll talk to Fury about getting you checked out before you end up doing something you regret."

"I'm not joking about this."

"Neither am I. Going after a known assassin, hoping to find he has fuzzy feelings of friendship for you? This is straight up crazy talk, and the fact that you can't see that scares me."

He shrugged. "I have to find him."

"Why, so he can put you back in the hospital again?" she demanded, her temper flaring.

"I owe him," he said simply. "More than my life, it's... we go way back. And I know that if our situations were reversed, Bucky'd be the first one in line to hunt me down and knock some sense back into me." His lips curved in the faintest of smiles. "You'd do the same for Barton, wouldn't you? Or for me?"

Natasha couldn't look away from those piercing blue eyes, pleading with her to understand. Neither could she answer him. Yes, she'd do the same thing, but she couldn't bring herself to say the words.

"I can't leave this alone," he said when she didn't reply. "I won't."

"I know." She expected no less of him.

"You could help me. You have contacts..."

"No." She might be able to understand his motivation, but she'd be damned if she helped him dig his own grave. "Look, I'm sorry. I won't stop you, but I won't help you either."

"I understand." There was no hurt or judgment in his voice, just acceptance. Neither was there any warmth, and that sent a ribbon of panic slicing through her middle.

"Is this going to be a problem for us?"

Steve picked up her hand, threading his fingers through hers. "Not for me."

"Good," she breathed in relief. With any luck, the Winter Soldier would remain hidden, just as he had for more years than she could recall. "Let's go back to bed."

They fell into their new positions, limbs wrapped around each other for comfort, but neither of them slept, lost to dark thoughts of what the future might bring.

**A/N: Dun, dun, dun... A bit of a darker note in this chapter, but I wanted to show that Bucky is still in the back of Steve's mind, edging to the forefront sometimes. I'm working on keeping this in the timeline at the end of The Winter Soldier, since it's unclear exactly how much time passed between his waking up in the hospital and the end. In my head we still have at least a week or more until we get to that last scene in the cemetery.**

**~ Feedback is Love ~**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: I don't own Cap or any of the characters, but I do like to take them for a spin every now and again…**

**Hmm, not as much chatter from that last chapter. I'm guessing not all of you are into the Bucky storyline. This is primarily a Steve/Natasha fic, so I'm not going to turn this into a Bucky hunt, but I did want to show that it's very much on Steve's radar. Hopefully this next chapter is more up your alley. :)**

_He shrugged. "I have to find him."_

"_Why, so he can put you back in the hospital again?" she demanded, her temper flaring._

"_I owe him," he said simply. "More than my life, it's... we go way back. And I know that if our situations were reversed, Bucky'd be the first one in line to hunt me down and knock some sense back into me." His lips curved in the faintest of smiles. "You'd do the same for Barton, wouldn't you? Or for me?"_

_Natasha couldn't look away from those piercing blue eyes, pleading with her to understand. Neither could she answer him. Yes, she'd do the same thing, but she couldn't bring herself to say the words. _

"_I can't leave this alone," he said when she didn't reply. "I won't."_

"_I know." She expected no less of him._

"_You could help me. You have contacts..."_

"_No." She might be able to understand his motivation, but she'd be damned if she helped him dig his own grave. "Look, I'm sorry. I won't stop you, but I won't help you either."_

"_I understand." There was no hurt or judgment in his voice, just acceptance. Neither was there any warmth, and that sent a ribbon of panic slicing through her middle. _

"_Is this going to be a problem for us?"_

_Steve picked up her hand, threading his fingers through hers. "Not for me."_

"_Good," she breathed in relief. With any luck, the Winter Soldier would remain hidden, just as he had for more years than she could recall. "Let's go back to bed."_

_They fell into their new positions, limbs wrapped around each other for comfort, but neither of them slept, lost to dark thoughts of what the future might bring. _

~ Steve ~

Forced inactivity never sat well with the Captain, and Steve was happy to have something to focus on again. His search for Bucky was academic at this stage, gathering intel from whatever sources he could – somewhat crippled by the lack of a central database following the demolition of SHIELD. Sam was eager to be recruited into the search, having re-found a taste for adventure at Cap's side. If his motives for catching the Winter Soldier centered more on retribution than redemption, he kept it to himself.

Steve was just grateful for the help. Natasha didn't ask him how the search was going, and he never brought up the subject again, knowing she had enough to deal with following the fallout from the congressional hearings. Not that he wouldn't have talked it over with her if he'd had something to report. Physically, he'd made almost a complete recovery from his ordeal on the helicarrier, but mentally, he still carried the scars.

If only he had _something_ to go on... some clue as to what'd happened to Bucky after his fall beyond the vague knowledge that Zola was involved. Where was he taken? Where had he been kept? What methods had they used to destroy his memories and reprogram him? What kind of training had he received? Any of these answers could've set him on the right track, but as things stood, Steve was left grasping at straws, the few clues he found nothing more than fragments of a tragic past.

Very much a soldier, Steve craved direction most of all. He wanted to be given an order to complete. A path to travel. Instead, all he had was the sinking suspicion that Bucky wouldn't let himself be caught until he wanted to be.

Still, that wasn't to say he didn't enjoy some downtime with Natasha. She taught him how to make _pirozhki_ and then pretended not to mind when he ate all but two of them. He surprised her with tickets to the ballet, and then pretended not to notice when she got all misty-eyed. There was a point in the night when she'd close his laptop, no matter what he was in the middle of, and drag him off to bed (not that it took all that much convincing whenever he saw that playful smirk). They got closer, but not _too_ close, each of them holding back in different ways.

One evening, she met him at the door with a cool drink, and a serious cast to her eyes he hadn't seen in a while. "So, we should probably talk," she said.

Steve's stomach clenched into a hard ball at the words. Part of him had been expecting this. Things were going too well, and sometimes he caught a flare of panic behind her eyes whenever he let himself gaze at her with too much longing. Whatever it was between them, it was clear to him that she wasn't ready to acknowledge that she felt things as deeply as he did. And that was fine, he was willing to go slow and give her space. Wasn't that what they'd agreed to? So what was with the gravity in her eyes? Had she reached some inner breaking point? Was this what being dumped felt like? He'd never gotten close enough to a woman to find out. "Okay," he said simply, following her into the living room.

"I have a job to do."

"A job?" he blinked, not having expected her to say that at all. The knot in his stomach eased, but didn't entirely go away. "What kind of a job?" She fixed him with a pointed look. "Oh." Fury must've called while he was out. SHIELD as they knew it might be gone, but that didn't mean there wasn't still a need for covert operations. Even with Natasha's covers blown, she could still be useful in the field. Steve only wondered why he hadn't received the call as well.

"I'll be leaving tomorrow morning. I'm not exactly sure how long I'll be gone for, but you're welcome to stay here if you want to."

Something about the way she said it made him wonder if the past couple of weeks hadn't been as amazing for her as they'd been for him. Was she using this as an excuse to get him out of her apartment? "I should probably think about going back to my place. I'm sure you want your privacy back," he suggested, relieved when the corner of her mouth lifted in a half smile.

"No rush. You make up for the lack of privacy with the view." Her eyes dipped to travel the length of his body, and he felt it harden in response. Was she playing with him?

"I have to say, the view's a lot better in here than from my place," he agreed, matching her playful tone. If she wanted to keep things light, he'd keep things light, as long as she wasn't shutting him out entirely. Only... there was something behind her banter that seemed off. The grave look behind her eyes as she studied him, despite the tilt to her lips. Something was clearly bothering her.

"What is it?" he prompted gently, half expecting her to blow him off.

Instead, she stepped closer, her fingers reaching for his. "For the first time, I can't help but think about what I'll miss out on if I don't make it back."

His lips parted in swift surprise at the admission, his fingers twining around hers. "You'll come back. You're the toughest person I know, and that's saying a lot."

"You're sweet, but I'm serious."

"So am I," he replied with absolute conviction. "There's no way we're not coming back to this. If you do run into a problem, I'll come and get you out of it. We're a team, remember?"

"Still..." Natasha's head shook, teeth catching her lower lip with uncharacteristic doubt. "I need my head in the game, and that's hard to do with you taking up space in there."

"I thought you were good at compartmentalizing things."

She looked up at him, green eyes shining with rare emotion. "I've never had to compartmentalize anything like this before."

_I love you too._ The words were on the tip of his tongue, but he didn't say it, afraid of spooking her. More than anything, he cherished this moment between them. Natasha stood before him far more naked then he'd glimpsed in teasing play. He tugged her closer by their joined hands, until her body pressed against his. "Well then, there's only one thing we can do."

Her head canted to one side in puzzlement. "What's that?"

"Clear your mind." His lips nudged against hers, seeking permission. Equal parts of joy and desire sang through his veins as he felt Natasha respond, her fingers leaving his to slide up his back. His hands settled on her hips at first, growing bolder as she matched his passion with a ferocity that stole his breath away.

For all her lack of height, Natasha definitely didn't lack for power, and she slammed him up against the wall in her eagerness to get at him. The rush of breath from his lungs was instantly swallowed by her desperate kiss, and a thrill went through him as he tasted her desire. She'd never shown any sign of losing control with him before, and it was a heady feeling to know there was surrender in her show of dominance. He wasn't sure what was running through her mind at the time, but any coherent thoughts flew right out of his head when her fingers dipped inside the waistband of his pants and smoothed over the bare skin of his behind. The gentleman inside him had a hard time not taking advantage of what she offered, and after her hand slid around front to stroke him boldly, he gave up trying.

Steve surged against her, turning them both to pin her up against the bedroom wall, trapping her with his body as his mouth worked lower, eager to taste her jaw, her throat, her shoulder, anything he could reach. Her hips shifted, cuddling his rigid length with her softness, and he scooped her up under her firm backside, lifting her higher. Natasha's legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, and he couldn't help bucking against her core.

"Steve..." she gasped as his tongue swirled over the throbbing pulse at her neck, her low moan sending a thrill through him as he sucked hard, marking her creamy flesh.

"Yeah?" He forced himself to respond, even as he dreaded her asking him to slow down. Something had changed, the air charged with a current of need that hadn't existed between them before, but he'd stop if she asked him to.

"I don't want to wait anymore."

"I don't either." His grip tightened in response as he realized what she meant, and Steve forced himself to take a breath, wanting to savor the moment. "That doesn't mean we have to rush though, does it?" he ventured with the hint of a smile.

"No," Natasha replied, her legs unwinding from his waist as she found her footing again. Steve wasn't sure he'd made the right request when she withdrew, until he saw the promise behind the curve of her answering smile. "No, it doesn't."

She pushed his shoulders roughly, sending him tumbling back onto the bed, where he propped himself up on his elbows. For a moment he was disappointed when she didn't immediately join him, but that was short lived when she peeled off her top with a sensual shrug. He'd wanted to savor the moment, and that's exactly what Natasha gave him, revealing inch by creamy inch of skin in a performance that wasn't quite a striptease, but definitely a show. When she stood before him in nothing more than a matching pink bra and panties set, he had to wonder if she'd planned for this before he'd even left the apartment that afternoon.

Instead of climbing beside him, she held out her hands, beckoning him to the edge of the bed. "Don't you want to touch me?" Steve nodded mutely, watching as she guided his big hands to cup her lace encased breasts, his thumb automatically seeking the dusky peak in a light caress. She pressed them against her harder, showing him that he didn't have to be so gentle. "Don't worry, I won't break."

They'd kissed plenty before, hands eager and seeking. Over the clothes stuff mostly, though it'd been enough to leave him sticky and gasping for breath on more than one night. Steve wasn't a stranger to the curves of her body, but he'd never been given free reign before. The honor was both daunting and exhilarating at the same time. Natasha had always seemed to enjoy his touch, but he didn't think he'd made her feel the same pleasure she'd given him yet, always pulling away before they took it too far.

She seemed to want him to be a little rougher now, so he experimented, getting far more intimate than he had before as he kneaded and stroked his way over her body. She shivered under his hands when he brushed over the lace below, her lips parting in the same instant her thighs did. Every hitch of breath, every soft sigh and gasp of pleasure was catalogued and filed away for future use. The dampness between her thighs filled him with pride and ambition. Inexperienced or not, she wanted him, and he didn't plan on disappointing her this time.

Things were going along great, until he couldn't manage the damn lock she had on the back of her bra. No matter what he tried, he couldn't figure out how to open the evil thing, and his jaw worked as he twisted and pulled at it. Even worse was the teasing smile that appeared on her face when he bit back a swear.

"You haven't, um... done this part before, have you?" she asked, holding onto a hint of that smile that stopped short of mocking. He wouldn't have been able to bear that. She was more amused than anything, and he could manage a rueful smile of his own. Captain America – defeated by a brassiere.

"Not exactly," he admitted. _Or at all._ Suddenly, he started to worry that a woman of Natasha's experience wouldn't appreciate a fumbling approach. "I might have to improvise," he realized aloud, applying brute strength to the problem. The stretchy band snapped apart, stinging his fingers, but it was worth it to see the open mouthed surprise that stole across her face.

It only took her a few seconds to recover though. "You owe me a bra," she declared as the broken thing fell away.

Steve took long seconds to stare in reverent awe at the perfection in front of him, before his smile returned. "Let's make it a matched set." Giving a sharp tug on the lacy scraps she called underwear, he grinned in triumph as the flimsy material tore apart, waving it like a captured flag before tossing it away.

Natasha wasn't as surprised this time, her eyes sparking with competition. "Fine, two can play at that game. Producing a knife from somewhere (Steve seriously had no clue where it came from. Between the mattress and the box spring?), Natasha deftly slit the front of his t-shirt, which split open like a grape with the slightest amount of pressure, already stretched to the limit to accommodate his muscled form.

"Shit," he breathed, still half shocked to see the knife against his skin, let alone the ruined shirt.

"Language," she scolded, raising a single brow, the flat of the knife tracing down to the top button of his jeans.

"I'll get the pants," he protested, catching her wrist in a loose hold. "Do you know how hard it is to find dungarees that fit my waist _and_ my thighs?"

Natasha chuckled at that, backing up to let him struggle out of his pants that felt too tight now. After a brief consideration, he left his boxers on, not sure if he should remove them yet, or if that was too much of an assumption. She didn't comment on it, and he was relieved to see her close the knife and toss it aside.

"Scoot back on the bed," she ordered, in complete control despite her total nudity – or perhaps because of it. "Or are you against trying something else new?"

Steve did as he was told, laying back until he reached the head of the bed, his eyes never leaving her. "I've tried lots of new things since I came out of the ice, none of them have licked me yet." This time Natasha came with him, crawling up the length of his body like a lioness stalking its prey.

"Interesting choice of words." Her head dipped to lave her tongue over the hollow above his collarbone, her warm breath fanning across his moist skin. And she didn't stop there, continuing to lick down his torso.

Too surprised to do much more than lie there at first, he reached for her, but Natasha kept moving south, slipping out of his grasp. "Are you supposed to, um..." His skull cracked against the wall as his head fell back against the pillow, overwhelmed by the feel of her lips tracing over his hard length through the thin material of his boxers. This was far beyond his realm of experience, and though it wasn't unwelcome, there was a hint of uncertainty behind his voice. "What did you, ah... have in mind?"

"Relax. You want to learn how the big kids play, don't you?" She looked up at him with that same smirk she gave right before she leapt into the fray. "First things first. If we don't take the edge off, you're gonna go off before we get to ignition." Her fingers hooked into his waistband and tugged his boxers off. They were both completely naked now, something he'd only anticipated sharing in the dark under the covers. Not that he was complaining one little bit, but what'd happened to going slow?

Natasha had things well in hand though, and Steve gave himself up to the magic of her mouth. No more doubts or worries about rushing things or the future, all he could do was lay back and _feel_. The expert glide of her tongue. The gentle grip of her hand. The sinuous slide of her body against his. He called on God and every saint he could remember as she led him higher and higher, but it was her name that burst from his tongue when he surrendered to an explosive climax that far surpassed anything he'd experienced by his own hand or hers.

Every muscle in his body felt weak and wrung out in the best way. Hitler could've danced in riding piggyback on the Red Skull and he wouldn't have been able to lift a finger beyond the weak pat of her hair.

Natasha propped herself up on his hip, a smug smile on her face. "Good?"

"You know it was," he panted, struggling to catch his breath.

"You okay?" she teased, her smile widening as she scooted up higher, her arm draping across his chest. "You need a drink of water? Some Gatorade or something?"

It surprised him how he could feel so drained and exhilarated at the same time, but Steve wasn't so weak he didn't notice the press of her bare breasts to his side. "I just need a second to catch my breath."

"Take all the time you need," she chuckled, her head pillowing against his shoulder. "I'm guessing that was a first too, huh?"

"Definitely."

"I'm glad."

Steve couldn't see her face, but he wrapped his arm around her back. "Me too."

There were no words then, the darkness outside growing deeper, casting the room into more shadow than light. The soft stroke of her hand across his chest was soothing and stirring at the same time, and he mimicked the movements against her silky, smooth back. Her skin felt cool against his heated body, and the longer they lay there, the more he felt the need to make her burn as he had.

"Are you ready?" he asked, when he was sure he was up to the task.

"For what?"

"My turn."

**A/N: I thought about splitting this up into two chapters, and decided it was just too cruel. Say thank you by dropping a quick review if you're enjoying this turn of events! You want Steve to get his turn, right?**

**~ Feedback is Love ~**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: I don't own Cap or any of the characters, but I do like to take them for a spin every now and again…**

**I'm glad you guys are enjoying things heating up between Steve and Natasha. Here's part two of the scene. **

"_You okay?" she teased, her smile widening as she scooted up higher, her arm draping across his chest. "You need a drink of water? Some Gatorade or something?"_

_It surprised him how he could feel so drained and exhilarated at the same time, but Steve wasn't so weak he didn't notice the press of her bare breasts to his side. "I just need a second to catch my breath."_

"_Take all the time you need," she chuckled, her head pillowing against his shoulder. "I'm guessing that was a first too, huh?"_

"_Definitely."_

"_I'm glad."_

_Steve couldn't see her face, but he wrapped his arm around her back. "Me too." _

_There were no words then, the darkness outside growing deeper, casting the room into more shadow than light. The soft stroke of her hand across his chest was soothing and stirring at the same time, and he mimicked her movements against her silky smooth back. Her skin felt cool against his heated body, and the longer they lay there, the more he felt the need to make her burn as he had. _

"_Are you ready?" he asked, when he was sure he was up to the task._

"_For what?"_

"_My turn."_

* * *

~ Natasha ~

Her brows climbed north. "I thought that _was_ your turn."

"Oh, no," he grinned, pressing her back against the soft comforter. The move caught her by surprise, but the rising darkness made him bolder. "That was all about what you wanted. Now I get what _I _want."

Something about the way he said it sent a flutter of nerves through her belly. Since when did she get nervous about bedroom antics?

"And what I want most..." he continued, his voice low and intimate. "...is to make you feel as good as you made me feel."

It was darker in the room, but not so dim she couldn't see the part of him that was hard and heavy against her thigh as he loomed over her. "Already?" He really put the _super_ in super soldier.

"You want me to learn, right? Well, I'm a hands on kind of guy. It's like riding a motorcycle. You can study up on how it works all you want, but you can only get the hang of it by jumping on and taking it out for a spin."

"Let me give you tip, jumping on me isn't the right place to start," she tossed back at him with an amused twitch of the lips, and Steve let out a low chuckle.

"That was only a figure of speech. Relax, I haven't crashed and burned yet."

Another flutter of nerves went through her at the promise in his earnest smile, but she hid it behind her trademark smirk. "This isn't like riding a motorcycle."

"I know, if I do it right we'll burn together." His lips closed over hers, cutting off her witty retort, and two seconds later, Natasha couldn't even remember what it was she'd been about to say. A man on a mission, Steve was as good as his word, wooing her with his mouth and hands, not at all shy once the talking part was over.

Her entire life she'd never been able to fully relax in any situation, let alone a vulnerable one like this; to surrender control in a world where a wrong move might prove fatal. Natasha gave up her traditionally dominant role in bed, lost to the power of his hands and lips and tongue. It was new and a little scary, but for once in her life, she took a leap of faith and trusted in Steve to catch her.

He was incredibly perceptive, and a fast learner. Not only did he remember what she liked, he was able to make the intuitive leap to what _else_ she might like. Where a soft touch might elicit a pleasant sigh, the scrape of teeth might lead to a sharp intake of breath, and Steve discovered that a light puff of air was just as effective as a kiss in certain places. Natasha soon forgot about everything but the dizzying climb he led her on, driving her right to the edge of release and then withdrawing before she could fall. Again he brought her to teeter on the brink, and she chalked it up to his inexperience when he shifted focus somewhere else. But the third time he shied away from where she needed him the most, she couldn't repress the tiny mewl of frustration, and felt his low chuckle reverberate through her.

Was he teasing her? She'd just made up her mind to re-establish control when he attacked her with a singleness of purpose, his arm a band of iron across her waist to keep her in place. There was nothing for her to do but tumble into sweet oblivion as he gave her what she'd been panting for, her hoarse cries leaving no doubts to anyone in the room (or likely the ones nearby) that she'd found her fulfillment.

Natasha's head fell back weakly onto the pillow, her body still trembling with aftershocks as he propped his head up to look down at her, an impossibly smug smile on his face.

"You okay?" he grinned. "Glass of water?"

"Shut up, Rogers," she breathed, the words barely a whisper past her parted lips, and he pressed a kiss to her shoulder. Her entire body still burned, tingly with pleasure, but not wholly satisfied without feeling him deep inside. "You're not stopping now, are you?" she asked once she got her breath under her.

"I thought I'd give you a minute to recover."

Natasha shook her head. "You started this, or do I have to finish it for you?" In one smooth move, she rolled him onto his back and straddled his waist. A shaft of moonlight fell across the pillow, showing her the anticipation in his face, even if she hadn't been able to feel his excitement pressing against her inner thigh.

"You, ah... You go right on ahead," he replied, his voice breaking as she rubbed against him, maneuvering him into place. "You seem to have a good handle on it."

All of a sudden he was _there_, and all it would take was a slight shift and it'd be done. A wave of doubt rolled through her as she realized this would irrevocably change things between them. Could she really take something so precious from him? There would be no going back once she took the final step.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" she asked, brows furrowed together as she fought against what her own body desired to make sure at least one clear head prevailed.

"Is this a trick question?" The corner of his mouth tugged up into a lopsided smile, and Natasha forced herself to explain instead of just kissing him senseless.

"Your first time should be special."

Steve reached up to trace his fingers along the curve of her jaw, his thumb brushing across her bottom lip as he replied without a hint of reservation. "It already is."

Natasha watched his face as she sank down onto him, forcing herself to go slow in order to prolong the experience for both of them. Steve's breath left him in a soft rush, eyes closed in utter surrender once he was seated deep inside her, but quickly fluttered open again, not wanting to miss a thing. She held the position for a few heartbeats, letting him adjust while she savored the sensation, more overcome than she'd thought she would be from such a simple act. But it was more than sex, it was like she felt... it was... there was a connection there she hadn't thought possible. In that moment Natasha discovered where she belonged.

She began to move, slowly at first, with nothing but the sounds of their breaths mingling in the air between them. Steve seemed overwhelmed at first, his hands clutching at her waist, but as the friction built between them, he found the rhythm, guiding her hips with almost bruising strength, every bit as much in control, despite his position on his back. Natasha threw her head back with abandon, letting him set the pace as she rode him to salvation.

Given free reign, Steve's tempo quickened, hitting her in all the right spots, but it wasn't enough. In one quick shift, he flipped their positions, rolling her over to drive deeper, harder, a primal urge taking over. Natasha wrapped herself around his welcome weight, her hips coming up to meet his in a delicious slide. It was there, ripe for the taking, a shining bliss that waited if only she could learn to surrender to it. For the first time, she forgot to arch her back in a way he might find pleasing. She forgot to position her lips in a way she knew would look pouty and kittenish in the moonlight. She forgot to do anything but _feel_ the bond between them, and the reckless slide into ecstasy that grew faster and faster, dizzying as it swept her away, carrying her to a new place. Steve's low moan told her he'd found it too, and they pulsed together, drowning in mutual pleasure.

Gradually, she became aware that she was clutching him tightly, her nails marking his shoulders with little half moons, and she eased her hold. His breath still came harsh at her ear, his cheek pressed to hers as he came down from the epic high they'd shared. Her heart felt so full, she might burst if she moved, and thankfully, Steve didn't seem to be in any hurry to budge either. It wasn't until he noticed the wetness on her cheeks that Natasha realized she was actually crying. Embarrassed, she turned her head away when his fingers swiped at her damp cheek.

"Nat, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," she murmured.

His brows furrowed together into a single line as he shifted more of his weight onto his arms. "Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you?"

"No," she sniffed, the concern in his voice sending another rush of hot tears. "It's stupid. I'm fine, really."

"Are you sure I didn't hurt you?" he persisted, withdrawing and rolling onto his side to watch her face carefully. "You can tell me. You can tell me anything."

"No, it's not like that, I swear."

"What is it then?"

Natasha darted a glance at him and he looked so bewildered – he was going to develop a complex if she didn't tell him _something_. "Nothing, I just..." How could she put what she was feeling into words when she hardly understood it herself? Natasha took a deep steadying breath, looking away as she searched for the right thing to say. "I guess I just realized that this is the way it's supposed to be, and I never knew that until now." Like a dog who couldn't see in color, she'd never guessed she was missing this entire spectrum of human emotion. "I guess I was so worried about whether or not you were ready for your first time, I never stopped to think about how I'd feel."

Steve nodded, his eyes displaying a wisdom that belied his years, and she felt like he understood without her having to spell it out any more than that. In that moment she loved him for that, for not making her say what she wasn't ready to speak out loud yet.

"I told you it'd be special," he said simply, leaning down to kiss her lips before he rolled onto his back, immediately pulling her into his embrace. Natasha snuggled into his chest, a deep peace settling over her after the release of emotion. "Thank you," Steve said, long after their heartbeats had slowed down.

Her lips twitched into a smile. "You don't have to thank me for sex."

"I'm not," he chuckled, giving her ass a playful swat. "I'm thanking you for letting me into your heart."

Natasha let out a long breath, unable to do that level of hearts and flowers, even in a rare emotional mood. But she did press a kiss into his chest.

Apparently Steve felt chatty after sex, and he tried again. "I'm guessing you were hurt in the past," he ventured.

"No. Not hurt." There was never hurt. She'd never cared about anyone enough to let them hurt her before. "I didn't let anything hurt me."

"That's just as bad."

"You don't have to pity me, Steve."

"I don't. I just wish..."

Natasha silenced him with a finger to his lips. "Let me show you something to wish for," she smiled, straddling him with renewed fervor.

**A/N: So, what did you guys think? Did I get it right? **

**Three guesses where we're headed next. **

**~ Feedback is Love ~**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: I don't own Cap or any of the characters, but I do like to take them for a spin every now and again…**

**I'm glad you guys enjoyed the sexy times between Steve and Natasha. Let's see how their new found intimacy plays in the real world.**

"_I'm going to Belgrade," Natasha said finally._

_Steve's eyes flicked to hers. "Belgrade? Why..."_

"_Shh... Need to know, remember?" she smiled, leaning down to kiss him deeply. _

"_Yes, ma'am," he agreed without protest, his hand slipping behind her neck to hold her close as his entire body responded with growing fervor. Swept up by the kiss, Natasha pushed aside all thoughts of the mission until he spoke again, his mind obviously still turning it over. "Maybe I should come with you?"_

"_I'll be fine, and I'll have Barton with me."_

_Steve's head came back so fast she thought he might get whiplash. "Clint's going with you?"_

"_Yes, he is." All at once she clued into why he'd said it like that. "You're not jealous, are you?" It was sweet, if a little unfounded. _

_Unused to playing games, Steve faced her with a direct look. "Should I be?"_

_A sarcastic remark leapt to her lips, but instead Natasha met his gaze openly. "No. Not one bit." There was quite a bit more kissing after that, and a few promises made _

_In less than an hour she'd have to get up and meet Clint or he was likely to show up pounding on her front door. But for the moment, Natasha sighed against Steve's chest in complete comfort. No, comfort wasn't the right word. She felt... cherished, and she liked it._

* * *

~ Natasha ~

The mission went like clockwork, and Natasha sent a surreptitious text message to Steve as soon as they got back to the safehouse, knowing he'd be worried. _Safe and sound._

From half a world away, Steve's answering text came in a matter of minutes. _Thanks, I needed that._

_You need to have a little faith._

_Never doubted you for a second, but it's still good to hear from you. Everything go okay then?_

_Smooth as silk._ Her fingers hovered over the screen for a second, before she added. _Miss you._

Steve sent back a smiley face. _Miss you more._

Her lips curved in a smug smile. _Obviously._

_When are you headed back?_

_Likely tomorrow. I'll text you when we're wheels up. _

_Good. You'll be back in time._

_In time for what?_ She was almost afraid to ask.

_It's a surprise. _

Steve had a surprise for her? The mind boggled. _You'd better not have done anything to my apartment._

_No. Been spending time at my place. _

_Oh._ Natasha couldn't help but feel a sliver of disappointment at finding he'd moved out. _Why?_

_Lonely there without you._

It made her smile, teeth scraping at her bottom lip as she considered whether or not she could get away with calling him. Instead, she sent, _I'll be home soon. _

_I'll be waiting._

She was halfway through a smiley face when Barton strode into the kitchen, and she stealthily slid her phone away. At least, she'd thought it was stealthy enough, but it turned out that Barton was paying way too much attention.

"It's a little far for a booty call, isn't it?" he smirked, standing with the door to the fridge open.

"What are you talking about?"

"Tell Rogers I said hi."

Busted. Still, Natasha tried to blow it off as if he hadn't struck a chord. "What makes you think I'm talking to Steve?"

Clint rolled his eyes so hard they almost got stuck that way. "Tell him I'm fine too, thanks for asking. Or should I send him little smiley faces and hearts too?"

"I'm not sending him smiley faces," she retorted, backspacing without looking at the phone's screen.

"Whatever. Just keep it down if you progress to one handed typing, okay? Just because you felt sorry for the guy and popped his cherry doesn't mean I want to listen to it. We've got a long flight tomorrow."

"Don't be crude," she bit back, resenting the thought that she'd invited Steve to her bed out of pity.

"Excuse me? Did you just say don't be crude?" Barton set down the bottle in his hand and stared at her across the counter. "Who the hell are you and what have you done with the real Natasha?"

"Funny." Deciding she was done with this topic, she got up to head to the bedroom for enough privacy to finish her conversation.

"I thought you were smarter than this, Nat," Clint called after her, and she stopped, against her better judgment.

"Smarter than what?"

"You know he's not up for this."

He wanted details, she'd give him details. "Oh, he was more than up for it," she shot back, hand on her hip as his face twisted with disgust.

"I think I just threw up a little in my mouth."

"You started it. Maybe you're the one who can't handle it."

"Handle what, exactly, Nat? Who you get grindy with is your business. I just think it's a bad idea where Captain Cornball is involved. I mean, the guy probably thinks he's in love with you," he snorted.

Was he? Natasha found herself breathless at the idea, her entire body flushed with pleasure. Did Steve love her? Did she want him to?

Clint snapped his fingers in front of her face. "Hello, Earth to Natasha."

"What?" she blinked.

"So that's pretty cold, even for you. I thought Steve was your friend."

"He is." She was closer to him than anyone, even Barton. Was that where this was coming from? Was Clint jealous?

"Like I said, that's pretty cold, playing with a man's heart."

"I'm not playing with his heart. Steve understands where things stand between us."

"Are you sure about that?" Clint scoffed, taking a deep pull on his beer. "'Cause I know you didn't actually talk about your feelings with him."

"You'd be surprised," she murmured, thinking back to the last night they'd shared together.

"Would I?" Barton's eyes narrowed as he stared at her. "Shit," he mumbled, his jaw dropping in a mixture of shock and dismay.

"What?"

"You're in love with him."

"Shut up." Natasha waved him off, turning on her heel to head for the bedroom as originally planned, but Clint chased after her.

"Yes, you are."

"I am not."

"Who are you trying to convince, me or yourself?"

"I'm not..." She stopped, not quite sure why it bothered her to have him taunt her with the words. "You know I don't... I wouldn't..."

"What? Let anyone in? It looks like he's slipped pretty far. Farther than I got."

Her brows twitched together. "Don't be like that."

"I'm not." He shrugged, the shock and dismay already given way to acceptance. "I'm... surprised. I'm not even mad."

Mad? This conversation had rapidly spiraled out of her comfort zone. "There's nothing to be mad about. You don't understand."

"I understand more than you think," he snapped, voice softening before he continued. "I'm just... I guess I always hoped it would be me." Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked back to the living room.

_Chyort._ "Barton, wait..." Natasha started after him, not wanting to leave things like this between them, but Clint didn't stop, retrieving his beer from the kitchen island and continuing to the couch where he plopped down and took a healthy swig. "Clint," she tried again, sitting beside him, but he waved her off.

"It's fine. I get it." Chugging the rest of the beer, he lobbed it across the room where it landed in the standing garbage can without touching the sides. "Swish..." he whispered, the corner of his mouth tugging up in the briefest of smiles before he looked back at her. "And I also get that it's none of my business and you have every right to snap my spine for sticking my nose into it – but I'm still gonna say this."

"I can't wait to hear this," Natasha muttered.

His eyes blazed with an intensity she rarely saw outside of the battlefield. "Don't wait too long to admit what you're feeling, okay? Our world... it's a dangerous place. You don't want to live with regrets. Or leave him with any either." With that he got up and left her in the living room, the bedroom door slamming behind him a few seconds later.

* * *

Natasha still sat there in the morning when Clint emerged, smelling faintly of mint and soap. "I do love him," she said softly when he cursed over the foreign buttons on the coffee maker.

Clint went very still. "I know."

Without another word, she came into the kitchen and unerringly set the coffee maker to brewing, hardly glancing at the buttons. Together they watched the little machine bubble and drip out the dark brew, the silence stretching between them. "I'm sorry," she said finally.

"What for?" He shrugged, having made his peace with it in the night. "We'll always have Budapest," he ventured with a lopsided grin that she was able to match.

"Yeah, we will."

"Do me one favor though?"

"What's that?"

"Tell him. Don't wait too long like I did."

Natasha gave a single nod, and then went to go wash up. Why was it that she could tell Barton how she felt about Steve, but the idea of saying anything close to love filled her with a sick dread? Maybe it was because for the first time since she was a little girl, she had something she feared losing?

**A/N: Thoughts? Observations? Feelings?**

**~ Feedback is Love ~**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: I don't own Cap or any of the characters, but I do like to take them for a spin every now and again…**

**Time to visit with another friend, I think. Something tells me it'll be harder for Steve and Nat to keep a lid on their feelings than they thought. **

_Natasha still sat there in the morning when Clint emerged, smelling faintly of mint and soap. "I do love him," she said softly when he cursed over the foreign buttons on the coffee maker. _

_Clint went very still. "I know."_

_Without another word, she came into the kitchen and unerringly set the coffee maker to brewing, hardly glancing at the buttons. Together they watched the little machine bubble and drip out the dark brew, the silence stretching between them. "I'm sorry," she said finally._

"_What for?" He shrugged, having made his peace with it in the night. "We'll always have Budapest," he ventured with a lopsided grin that she was able to match._

"_Yeah, we will."_

"_Do me one favor though?"_

"_What's that?"_

"_Tell him. Don't wait too long like I did."_

_Natasha gave a single nod, and then went to go wash up. Why was it that she could tell Barton how she felt about Steve, but the idea of saying anything close to love filled her with a sick dread? Maybe it was because for the first time since she was a little girl, she had something she feared losing? _

* * *

~ Natasha ~

Natasha wasn't sure why he'd asked her to meet him at a local pub instead of at his place, but a social drink or two wasn't a bad idea. It might help kill the jittery nerves she'd been plagued with ever since leaving Barton behind at the airport. A grown woman, she'd never gone through anything resembling love in her teen years, so she lacked the experience with sweaty palms and butterflies in her stomach when it came to telling a guy how she felt. All she knew was seduction and this new thing she couldn't quite get a handle on yet. She loved Steve. The more she said it to herself, the more she felt the truth of it in her bones. But was now the right time to say something about it? Who the hell knew? Maybe that's why Steve had asked to meet on neutral territory? Part of her could acknowledge that she'd been disappointed when he hadn't been waiting for her at the airport. But she was the one who'd asked him to keep things quiet about their relationship.

Stepping into the bar, her stomach tightened in anticipation as she caught sight of his chiseled jaw and broad shoulders standing out among the crowd. God, he looked better than any man had a right to... A loopy half-smile tugged at the corner of her mouth – until she saw a familiar face sitting next to him at the table, and the mask slipped back into place.

"Hey, Nat," Steve said with forced casualness as she approached the table. "Look who I ran into." _Sorry_, he mouthed when Sam's head swiveled in her direction.

Natasha ignored the pleading in his eyes, her game face on. That's what he got for suggesting a public place. Instead, she took a seat between Steve and his buddy. "So, how's tricks, Sam?" she asked, casually swiping a sip of his beer.

Predictably, Sam's eyes followed the bottle to her mouth. "Good, good. I take it Steve's recruiting you into his secret squad too, huh?"

"Secret squad?" She turned to Steve with an arched brow, and he shifted in his seat.

"No, she's already given it a pass," he said dismissively, changing the subject. "Can I get you a beer?"

"I'd rather hear more about this secret squad," she smiled, not letting him off the hook so easily.

"It's not a squad, it's..."

"The elite," Sam came to the rescue. "The best of the best. However you want to slice it, we're the shit," he grinned with engaging confidence.

So what were the Avengers? Or was he quitting them to form his own team? "And you're assembling this squad to...?"

Steve took a drink, a classic delaying tactic while he searched for words, and still didn't come up with much. "He's, ah... well, he's helping me..."

"Come on, Rogers, out with it." She waved him on.

"He's agreed to help me find Bucky," Steve blurted the words out fast, as if ripping off a Band-aid.

They were back to that already, were they? She'd been hoping he would lose interest when his leads all turned into dead ends, but Natasha could see it'd take a lot more than that to make Steve let go of that bone. Years of training made it easy to give a half-hearted shrug as if it didn't have anything to do with her. "Whatever floats your boat."

Steve's jaw went slack. "You're not mad?"

"No. Should I be?" She gave him the blandest look possible, hoping he'd clue into the fact that a team member and _friend_ shouldn't care one way or the other how he spent his free time.

"Ah, no reason, I guess." Steve would've made a terrible spy. He had no aptitude for subterfuge whatsoever. Part of her wanted to turn his face to hers and kiss away those worry lines across his brow, but Natasha held her laid-back position.

"I still think you should reconsider joining us," Sam added with an engaging grin. "We can use a little class in our cadre."

"Did you just say cadre?" she asked with a smirk, and Sam gave a self deprecating chuckle.

"Too much?"

"The invitation stands if you ever decide to change your mind," Steve interjected. "We could sure use your help."

"I'll remember that," she said smoothly, trying to ignore the puppy dog look on his face that made her want to go against her decision to leave the Winter Soldier the hell alone. "In the meantime, somebody order me a drink, I'll be back in a minute."

Steve rose when she did, ever the gentleman. "Sure. What'll you have?"

Her lips curved into a faint smile. "Surprise me."

"I'll have another beer while you're up," Sam piped up, draining the last of his drink, and Steve nodded.

"Sure, you got it."

Natasha left while they were still discussing the drink order and went to the ladies room, mentally kicking herself for giving in to the need to retreat. It was harder than she'd thought it would be, acting like there was nothing between them in public, and as she faced herself in the mirror, she looked flushed. Running cool water over her wrists helped, and dabbing a damp paper towel against her neck felt even better. When she was sure she had her emotions in check, she emerged.

A hand closed over her shoulder as she reached the hallway outside the bathroom, and Natasha reacted without thinking. Grabbing the wrist, she pivoted and twisted in one smooth, lightning fast movement, shoving him against the wall where Steve crashed with a solid thud.

"Sorry, I just..." Steve never got to finish his statement as her mouth closed over his in a hungry kiss. Just as eager to return it, his hands snaked around her waist to pull her tight against the hard length of his body.

He smelled so good – like fresh soap and bay rum, as though he'd shaved right before coming to meet her. A press of her cheek to his found it baby soft, and she deliberately rubbed against it, desperate to get closer to him, even as warning bells went off in the back of her mind. "We can't do this here," she murmured against his lips, and he nodded.

"I know." Neither one of them made a move to stop though, their hearts beating faster and faster the longer they risked someone seeing them in the hallway. Had she ever thought Steve didn't know how to kiss? He set her body on fire with just his mouth and hands, and it was all she could do to keep from dragging him into the bathroom to have her way with him.

She wasn't the only one affected by it. "Meet you back at my place?" he breathed by her ear, sending a flutter of anticipation shooting right to her core.

"Mine is closer," she countered, her voice husky and seductive without trying.

Steve swallowed, forcing a deep breath as she backed off, leaving a cushion of space between them. "Okay, give me a minute to say goodnight to Sam and I'll meet you at your place."

Natasha took a breath of her own, smoothing her hair as she tamped back her desire, a plan already forming. "Take your time. I'll have to let someone pick me up at the bar."

His brows drew together into a single line. "Why?"

"Because otherwise it'll look suspicious when we both leave here within minutes of each other. Especially when you're standing at attention." Her eyes flicked down to the bulge straining to break free of his pants.

Steve's cheeks flushed red, and he angled away to discreetly adjust his pants, his brow still creased with worry when he turned back to her. "But you're not going to..."

_God, he was adorable._ "Relax, Rogers. This is what I do."

Natasha sashayed back to the table and downed the shot sitting in front of Sam, ignoring the drink Steve had bought for her. "Thanks for the drink, gentlemen," she smiled as Steve approached, her eyes lingering on a passably handsome guy at the bar. "I see something else that whets my appetite."

* * *

~ Steve ~

Steve stared after Nat as she made her way to the bar, he couldn't help it. It made his blood boil to see her cozying up to the random man at the bar, especially the way that the guy looked at her, like he wanted to devour her right there in the bar. And Natasha, the way she smiled at him, the light touch to his arm, the throaty chuckle – he'd never had to watch her work before, not like that. At least not since he'd come to think of her as his. Even though he knew it was all for show, it still bothered him to see her smile that way at anyone but him.

"Too rich for our blood."

"Huh?" Steve blinked, realizing that Sam had said something he hadn't quite caught.

"She's out of our league," he elaborated, tipping the top of his beer in her direction.

"Oh, right." Damn, he had to be more careful. Then again, it wasn't out of character for him to appreciate some of Natasha's more physical assets. A guy would have to be blind not to. "Yeah, I guess she is," he agreed, falling into the agreed upon deception, even though he didn't like misleading his friend.

"That's not to say we can't find us a nice pair of honeys though," Sam insisted, ever optimistic. "The night's still young."

"Oh, you know, I think I'm going to call it a night," he begged off before Sam got too enthusiastic about the idea. It wasn't the first time he'd tried to set him up on a date.

Sam's face fell. "What? We just got here."

"I know, but this isn't really my scene."

"What _is_ your scene?" Sam snorted, and Steve gave him a tight smile.

"Thanks for joining the team, such as we are."

"I still like the word cadre," Sam grinned. "Cap's cadre – see how that rolls off the tongue?"

Steve couldn't help but chuckle. It was good to have someone in on the hunt with him. "I'll keep it in mind. I'll be in touch once I figure out what our next step is." Looking up, he noted that Nat was gone, and so was the guy who'd been drooling over her at the bar.

"Alright, later, man. If you change your mind about pursuing a different kind of target give me a call. You know I'll be your wing man."

"And on that note, I'd better get out of here," Steve said, grinning over the pun. With Nat on the move, he felt the need to make tracks as well. Maybe if he hurried, he could stop at home and pick up her surprise along the way? "I'll see you later, Sam. And thanks again."

"Yeah, no problem," Sam replied, staring after him as Steve made a quick retreat. The boy had it bad.

**A/N: So I figure Sam would be able to figure out there's something between them, at least on Steve's part. He's spent the most amount of time with them lately and seen how close they've become. What do you guys think?**

**~ Feedback is Love ~**


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: I don't own Cap or any of the characters, but I do like to take them for a spin every now and again…**

**I'm glad you guys were up for seeing a bit of Sam. Yes, I do think he's more observant than he gets credit for. And I do think he can be trusted. Someone else comes to visit in this chapter. **

"_She's out of our league," he elaborated, tipping the top of his beer in her direction._

"_Oh, right." Damn, he had to be more careful. Then again, it wasn't out of character for him to appreciate some of Natasha's more physical assets. A guy would have to be blind not to. "Yeah, I guess she is," he agreed, falling into the agreed upon deception, even though he didn't like misleading his friend. _

"_That's not to say we can't find us a nice pair of honeys though," Sam insisted, ever optimistic. "The night's still young."_

"_Oh, you know, I think I'm going to call it a night," he begged off before Sam got too enthusiastic about the idea. It wasn't the first time he'd tried to set him up on a date._

_Sam's face fell. "What? We just got here."_

"_I know, but this isn't really my scene."_

"_What is your scene?" Sam snorted, and Steve gave him a tight smile. _

"_Thanks for joining the team, such as we are." _

"_I still like the word cadre," Sam grinned. "Captain's cadre – see how that rolls off the tongue?"_

_Steve couldn't help but chuckle. It was good to have someone in on the hunt with him. "I'll keep it in mind. I'll be in touch once I figure out what our next step is." Looking up, he noted that Nat was gone, and so was the guy who'd been drooling over her at the bar. _

"_Alright, later, man. If you change your mind about pursuing a different kind of target give me a call. You know I'll be your wing man."_

"_And on that note, I'd better get out of here," Steve said, grinning over the pun. With Nat on the move, he felt the need to make tracks as well. Maybe if he hurried, he could stop at home and pick up her surprise along the way? "I'll see you later, Sam. And thanks again."_

"_Yeah, no problem," Sam replied, staring after him as Steve made a quick retreat. The boy had it bad. _

* * *

~ Natasha ~

Natasha headed straight for the bathroom the moment she got home to wash up. The guy she'd left the bar with had needed a little convincing that he wasn't quite as lucky as he'd first thought, and the gallon of cheap cologne he'd doused himself with clung to her hands from having to remind him how to treat a lady who says no. No amount of water over her wrists could cool the heat racing along her veins in anticipation of getting Steve alone again.

The flutter of nerves was there again, but in a good way. She spent a good five minutes daydreaming over what his face would look like when she said the love thing for the first time. And what it'd look like when she showed him just how much. Did she have time to change into something slinky to make his jaw drop before they even got to words of love? Probably not, but that thought propelled her from the bathroom to take a look at her arsenal.

It wasn't anything she could put her finger on at first. Call it instinct or a highly developed danger sense from years of training, but the room _felt_ different to her the moment she stepped out of the bathroom. The apartment was still dark, nothing out of place, not a hint of movement, but there was someone else there – she could feel it.

"Steve?" she breathed, the word barely more than a whisper from her lips as she stealthily moved to the kitchen, where any number of weapons waited.

"I know you."

Natasha didn't have to see him to know who it was, the voice low and raspy, as though he hadn't used it in a while. Heart pounding, she froze, eyes trying to pick out his silhouette in the uncertain light, but he blended perfectly with the darkness. "I'm a memorable girl," she replied, her voice deceptively light, trying to draw him out and reveal his position.

"Near Odessa, five years ago. You survived the crash and I shot you."

"It rings a bell." She still had the scar on her abdomen to show for it. "It's a little late to come and finish the job now, don't you think?" He was on the floor beside the bookcase, she was sure of it. Her hand closed around the nearest weapon, the hilt of a cooking knife. Comforted by the cool steel, she edged forward.

"You weren't the mission. I acquired him later after you were reassigned," he answered without passion or pride, merely reporting the facts. "I know you from your file. Natasha Romanoff, born Natalia Romanova, code name – Black Widow." There was a hesitation before he continued, as if he was confused. "But I don't know you from before."

There, she could make out the shape of his head now. A flick of the wrist and the knife would find its mark. At least it would on a normal person. The Winter Soldier wasn't a normal person. That fact alone kept the knife in her hand. "Before what?"

"Before... before the..." His voice fell away, breath coming harshly. "When I knew _him_."

Shit. He was starting to remember. Was that a good thing or a bad thing? "You mean Steve."

"Steven Grant Rogers was born in Brooklyn, New York on July 4th, 1918 to Sarah and Joseph Rogers. Served in the US Army as Captain America until he went MIA in 1945, only to be recovered in the ice in 2011." The words came without inflection, as though he had no personal connection with Steve at all.

"Those are his statistics. Do you remember the man?"

"What are you to him?" he countered, ignoring her question for one of his own.

"An ally," she replied honestly. "A dangerous one. So if you're thinking of hurting him, don't plan on walking out of this apartment." Holding the knife loosely, she readied herself for the attack that never came. Neither did any kind of reply. As the silence stretched on, she almost wondered if he'd fallen asleep or something. "Are you? Thinking of hurting him?"

Nothing but silence.

Deciding on a risk, she switched on the lamp closest to her, counting on the light to blind him more than it did her, since he'd been sitting in the darkness for longer. He barely reacted to the sudden light, and through squinted eyes, she saw him clearly. The Winter Soldier huddled in the corner of the room, his arms propped up on his knees, hands dangling. He wore a shapeless jacket and stained work pants, hair loose and grazing his shoulders. It was obvious he hadn't shaved in days, and the dark circles under his eyes didn't come from camouflage this time. If he'd been out on the street she might not have glanced at him twice, he looked like a homeless vagabond, nothing more. But she knew training like his made him just as deadly as always. What was he doing in her apartment?

"He thinks you're still his old pal, you know," she added, trying to draw him out as she edged closer. "That you saved him because there's some part of Bucky still inside you."

His brows pinched closer together, the corners of his mouth working as he considered his words. "Bucky… I know that name, but I don't feel him inside."

"All the better to stay away then. He won't fight you, and I won't let you hurt him." It needed saying. He might be Steve's oldest and dearest friend, but Nat wouldn't let that stop her from ending him if he put Steve in danger.

His blue eyes flicked up to hers for the first time and held her prisoner. There was pain and turmoil in his gaze, but it was the lack of hope that sent up a flare that couldn't be ignored. People with no hope were the most dangerous of all. She'd seen it before, girls separated from everything they loved, and tortured until they learned to love the torment, because it meant they could feel _something_. Steal all hope and you stole their humanity as well. She'd been like that once, little more than a robot programmed to do her master's bidding. Until she'd been shown the light. No… until she'd been dragged into it by a certain archer.

"It doesn't have to be this way," she blurted out, unsure where to go now that she'd plunged ahead onto this unfamiliar path. Barely treading water herself, Natasha wasn't equipped with a moral life preserver, but she spoke from the heart. "You don't have to be what they made you. You can choose to be more than a killer. You can find Bucky again."

"There is no Bucky," he chuffed with a bitter laugh. "That man died years ago."

"Then be someone new. You wouldn't be here if you just wanted to be their lapdog. You'd be home, waiting for your next assignment."

"I have no home. You saw to that." His words rang hollow, and Natasha cursed herself for the misstep.

"You're right, that wasn't a home. Home is the wrong word," she admitted. "That doesn't mean you can't make a new one if you want to." He fell to staring ahead, his face slack, and she tried again. "Just talk to him. Steve, more than anyone else, understands what you've lost. He also knows what it's like to pick up the pieces and start over."

"He knows _nothing_ of what it's been like for me." There was a brief flash of emotion before the hopelessness returned with a vengeance.

"That doesn't mean he can't listen. Sometimes that helps. Trust me, I speak from experience."

"Trust you," he said, trying the words out on his tongue as if they were a foreign language. "You already admitted to being willing and able to end me if the situation calls for it. Why the impassioned plea for my salvation? Why do you care?"

"Because Steve cares. He cares very much." And at the end of the day, she'd do anything to ease Steve's suffering. Even if that meant bringing the dangerous assassin back into his life.

"He's important to you."

The statement caught her off guard. "You could say that," she replied, pinned in place by his arresting stare as he turned the full power of his gaze on her once again.

His head cocked to one side. "I wonder if you're important to him?" In the space between one instant and the next he was up on his feet, the listless languor vanishing without a trace. Natasha backed up, shifting her hold on the knife as he stalked closer, every inch the predator.

"Don't..." She wasn't sure exactly what she was pleading for in that instant. For him to stop his advance, or not to make her do something they might both regret. They were interrupted by a rap on the door, a distinctive shave and a haircut knock, followed by Steve's call.

"Hey, it's me. I've got your surprise."

Quick as anything, the Winter Soldier's gun was drawn, a natural extension of his regular arm. For one brief, terrible moment, Natasha wasn't sure if he was going to attack her, shoot Steve through the door, or turn the gun on himself. From the look on his face, he wasn't completely sure either.

"Nat?"

The decision made, he ran full tilt at the window, diving through it, never mind the fact that it was closed. At the sound of shattering glass, Steve shouldered open the front door, his face a mask of worry, especially when he saw the knife in her hand.

Natasha didn't bother with assurances or pleasantries. "Out the window. Careful, he's armed."

**A/N: So, what did you think of the visit? It makes sense to me that Bucky might contact Natasha if he's not ready to talk to Steve yet, and he would've seen Steve spending a lot of time at her apartment lately.**

**~ Feedback is Love ~**


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: I don't own Cap or any of the characters, but I do like to take them for a spin every now and again…**

**I'm glad you guys were happy to see Bucky turn up! I had a lot of fun playing with him. Unfortunately, this isn't going to turn into a big adventure to catch him, it's primarily a story about Natasha and Steve finding their way to each other, so there isn't much left to go before the final chapter, but I thought it was important to remind our couple that there are eyes on them even when they think they're alone. **

_His head cocked to one side. "I wonder if you're important to him?" In the space between one instant and the next he was up on his feet, the listless languor vanishing without a trace. Natasha backed up, shifting her hold on the knife as he stalked closer, every inch the predator._

"_Don't..." She wasn't sure exactly what she was pleading for in that instant. For him to stop his advance, or not to make her do something they might both regret. They were interrupted by a rap on the door, a distinctive shave and a haircut knock, followed by Steve's call._

"_Hey, it's me. I've got your surprise."_

_Quick as anything, the Winter Soldier's gun was drawn, a natural extension of his regular arm. For one brief, terrible moment, Natasha wasn't sure if he was going to attack her, shoot Steve through the door, or turn the gun on himself. From the look on his face, he wasn't completely sure either. _

"_Nat?"_

_The decision made, he ran full tilt at the window, diving through it, never mind the fact that it was closed. At the sound of shattering glass, Steve shouldered open the front door, his face a mask of worry, especially when he saw the knife in her hand. _

_Natasha didn't bother with assurances or pleasantries. "Out the window, careful, he's armed."_

* * *

~ Natasha ~

The longer Steve was gone, the more she second-guessed her decision to stay behind. They were both so fast, they would've outpaced her on foot very quickly, but knowing that didn't help settle the unease that pricked every nerve ending whenever she tried to sit down. No longer feeling safe in her own apartment, she only managed not to start throwing things into a duffel by sheer will alone.

Instead, she paced back and forth to the kitchen, around the small island, and back to the living room. She'd completed the circuit a half dozen times before Natasha realized she still had the knife clutched in her hand, and dropped it in the sink with a clatter.

"Screw this, I'm going after them." Barely pausing to strap on her gun belt, Natasha was halfway to the door, when it burst open. Her guns came up a half second later, fingers freezing over the triggers when she saw it was Steve. "What happened, are you okay?"

"I never got within twenty feet of him, he gave me the slip. What about you? Did he hurt you? What happened here?"

"I'm fine," she waved his concern away, more worried about what Bucky's unexpected appearance meant for them. "He just wanted to talk." At least, that's what she told herself, not wanting to interpret what that gleam in his eyes had been about right before Steve burst onto the scene.

His hands made a gentle inspection, touching her chin, shoulders, elbows, hips – seeing for himself that she was whole and unhurt as she holstered her weapons. "You're shaking," he declared, brows drawing together into a single dark line, and she pulled away, out of his grasp.

"It's adrenaline, I'm fine," she insisted. But she wasn't fine. Her pulse was still racing like the wind. Was it an isolated incident, or could she look forward to more nighttime visits? Natasha forced her breath to come slower for metered counts until it didn't feel like her heart wanted to jump out of her chest anymore. "You know, old ghosts," she smiled, keeping her voice light, but it didn't fool him one bit.

"Only he's not a ghost," he pointed out, capturing her arm before she escaped too far. "He's very real, and there's no shame in admitting that he got to you."

It wasn't shame she felt, but sharing emotions had never been her strong suit. Still, this was Steve looking down at her with those baby blues like he wanted to absorb her pain if he could, and she decided to let him try. "I had nightmares about his eyes for years after the shooting." Barton had woken her from a cold sweat more than once. "What I saw tonight was different though. For the past fifty years he's been a stone cold killer. No remorse, no emotion. Little more than a robot – he's that detached and precise. But now... you've got him unraveling at the seams." And that took scary to a whole new level.

That obviously wasn't what Steve had expected her to say. "Me?" he blinked, his jaw going slack. "I didn't do anything to him."

"Yes, you did. You reminded him not only of the past, but that he used to be a man. What he's going to become now is anyone's guess."

His Adam's apple dipped as Steve swallowed, another frown line joining the others on his brow. "Why did he come here? Did he say?"

_If only she knew._ "I think... I think he was looking for answers. Only he's so mixed up inside, he doesn't know what all the questions are."

"But why come to you? Why not see me?"

"My guess is he isn't ready to talk to you. Not yet."

"What did he say _exactly_?"

Natasha gave him a fairly accurate rundown of the conversation, trying her best to leave her interpretation out of it. Steve did know him so much better, maybe he would've seen something completely different in the exchange? When she finished talking, she sat on the edge of the couch, watching him closely. The furrows on his brow hadn't eased, if anything, they'd set up camp for the foreseeable future.

"So he _is_ starting to remember," he murmured, eyes focused on a faraway place. "If only I could get to him, to make him understand..."

"I'm betting you'll get your chance sooner than you think. Whatever he decides to do, I doubt he'll be able to hold it together on his own for too much longer." That was the most frightening thing of all – change was definitely coming one way or the other. If the man did decide to leave Bucky behind and embrace his identity as the Winter Soldier, Steve might never forgive himself for letting his old buddy down.

Steve gave a single nod, then snapped out of the thousand yard stare, his expression softening as he focused on her. "I'm sorry if he scared you. Especially if he did it as a way to send a message to me."

"I can take care of myself," she said with a half shrug, but she didn't resist when he pulled her in for a hug. It felt good to be in his arms. Safe.

"Maybe I should stay the night here, in case he comes back?" he suggested, and she hid a smile against his shoulder.

"If you want to get into my bed all you have to do is ask."

Steve sprang out of the hug, a blush stealing up the side of his neck. "No, I... that's not what I meant."

"Then you don't want to?" she asked, her face very near his, and his eyes dipped to her full lips.

"I didn't say that, I..." His phone buzzed, and Steve looked away at the display, frowning over the screen.

"What's that?"

"I sent Sam a quick text letting him know Bucky was in town."

She let him text back, waiting for him to react to what he'd just said. When he looked back up with no sign of the impact, her brows climbed skyward. "You told Sam that Bucky was _here_ and that you just happened by because..."

Comprehension clicked, and Steve shook his head. "No, I said I ran into him when I was out for a walk. I gave the general area, but your name didn't come up. I was hoping he could use some of his old contacts to try and help me close the net now that Buck's here."

"Does he have contacts like that?" Here she'd thought Sam was out of the game beyond his involvement in toppling HYDRA.

"Not exactly, but I'm working with what we've got. Everybody's moved on," he sighed, shoulders sloping. "Maria took a job with Stark now. Kate, I mean, Sharon's working for the CIA..."

That got her attention. "You talked to Agent 13?"

"Ah, yeah. I ran into her in the hallway, moving out. We had a cup of coffee together and caught up."

"I bet," she muttered. He didn't even have the decency to look guilty over it. In fact, Steve looked baffled over her interest in the subject.

"Does that bother you?"

"No, why should it?" Her nonchalance was back, camouflaging the green that threatened to escape, but it didn't look like he was buying it.

"Because a few weeks ago you were trying to get me to ask her out," he pointed out, the hint of a smile playing on his lips.

"Crazy me, I wanted you to be happy."

Picking up her hand, Steve held it in his lap. His calloused fingers stroked the soft skin on the inside of her wrist. "She's not the one who makes me happy, Nat. I thought you knew that."

"Does _she_?" she couldn't keep the jealous twinge from seeping in and mashed her lips together before she said something stupid.

"As a matter of fact, I told her I'm seeing someone. I didn't say who, you wanted to keep things on the low down, right?"

"That's down low, and why did it even come up at all if you were just having a neighborly chat?"

There was the slightest hesitation before he spoke, that got her intuition prickling. "Because she asked me out, and I didn't want to be rude."

"She asked you out?" _That bitch._ Never mind the fact that Natasha _had_ been pitching her as date material for Steve. That was before. "And you told her you were dating?"

"Is there something wrong with my telling people I'm off the market?" His eyes blinked fast, as though he was having trouble figuring out where his misstep was. "I am, aren't I? I won't tell anyone I'm with you if you don't want me to, but..."

Natasha laid a single finger across his lips. _God, she loved him._ "No, you definitely are." And in that moment, she didn't care who knew about it. In the next instant they were kissing. Not the fevered passion of the other night, but there was deep longing mingled with the relief of another crisis averted, and knowing they were free to love each other for another day.

The danger forgotten, she was ready to lead him to the bedroom when his mouth pulled away, teeth worrying at his lower lip. "I wonder..." he murmured, and she forced herself to pay attention to what he was saying instead of the urge to give that lip a nibble of her own.

"What?"

Oblivious to her lust after his lips, he got up to pace. "I can't help but wonder if that's why Bucky turned up at your door."

"More like inside it, but if _what's_ why he showed up here?"

"Because he knows about you and me."

Was that what was bothering him? "It's not a hard conclusion to come to if he's been watching either one of us since you got out of the hospital. The past few days aside, you have been staying here pretty much non-stop," she allowed. "That might be part of why he came here, but you heard what he said, he wasn't sure what we are to each other. That tells me he doesn't have the place bugged. Or at least he didn't until tonight." That was a sobering thought.

"When's the last time you did a sweep for bugs?"

**A/N: Cutting it short here, as it's all I have time to get to this week. I'm thinking only a couple more chapters and I'll have things lined up where I want them to go. **

**~ Feedback is Love ~**


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: I don't own Cap or any of the characters, but I do like to take them for a spin every now and again…**

**Thanks for all the love! Jealous Natasha was fun to write. Ready to see what the surprise is? **

_Oblivious to her lust after his lips, he got up to pace. "I can't help but wonder if that's why Bucky turned up at your door."_

"_More like inside it, but if what's why he showed up here?"_

"_Because he knows about you and me."_

_What that what was bothering him? "It's not a hard conclusion to come to if he's been watching either one of us since you got out of the hospital. The past few days aside, you have been staying here pretty much non-stop," she allowed. "That might be part of why he came here, but you heard what he said, he wasn't sure what we are to each other. That tells me he doesn't have the place bugged. Or at least he didn't until tonight." That was a sobering thought._

"_When's the last time you did a sweep for bugs?" Steve asked, clearly upset by the notion._

* * *

~ Natasha ~

"Last week. You don't really think...?" He just gave her that look, and Natasha abandoned all steamy thoughts for the moment, dragging out the scanner to check for any unauthorized electronics in the apartment. "Looks like we're clean," she reported when she was through. Of course that didn't mean someone couldn't pick up their conversation with a directional mic, but she pushed that idea from her head. If someone was close enough to use one, they would've gotten an eyeful already.

If Steve had thought of that, he must've discarded the worry as well. "Good," he smiled, arms settling around her waist. "Now, where were we?"

More than happy to return to sexy times, her eyes flicked to the door to make sure it was locked, and noticed the leather satchel tipped over on its side. His forgotten bag. "Hey, you never did tell me what my surprise is," she remembered aloud.

"Oh right, sorry." Letting go of her with a sheepish grin, he dug around in the bag, withdrawing a cardboard cylinder. "I guess I got a little distracted."

"Hold the little."

"Sorry, I was going to get this framed, but I ran out of time. You and Barton pacified the situation faster than I thought you would."

"Oh ye of little faith," she smirked, accepting the tube with consternation. He'd gotten her something suitable for framing? "Sorry, I guess I probably should've picked you up something too when you mentioned a surprise. I'm new to this whole girlfriend thing, and something tells me you wouldn't exactly swoon over a snow globe from the DC airport."

"You didn't have to get me anything." He waved the thought away, eyes watching her with anticipation as she slid off the cap. "It's not that big of a deal, just something I worked on while you were gone."

Natasha pulled out a piece of heavy sketch paper, unrolling it to reveal her own image. It was done in pencil, shaded with delicate care to add the suggestion of curves and shadows in all the right places. He'd drawn her curled up on the sofa in a pair of shorts and a tank top, with fuzzy socks pulled up to her knees. The edge of her bottom lip was caught between her teeth, the hint of a smile curving her lips as she looked down at the tablet in her hand. It wasn't a sexy pose, but he'd captured something much more personal because he'd caught her in such a mundane activity.

"It's beautiful," she said softly, realizing he was waiting for some kind of a reaction from her, and he dropped a pleased kiss on her shoulder.

"So is its inspiration."

He'd clearly spent hours on it, lovingly recreating her face with exquisite detail. Those nights they'd spent together in the apartment – had he been studying her the whole time? Usually hyperaware of her surroundings, she'd been oblivious to his scrutiny, and he'd caught a side of her not often seen by others. There was a softness there, a quiet, reflective beauty with no agenda or guile. In his drawing she saw herself as he did, and a lump caught in her throat, wondering if she'd be able to live up to that ideal.

"What's the matter?" Steve asked, still intuiting more than she gave him credit for.

"This is how you see me?"

"Yeah. Why, did I get something wrong?" His face clouded with worry, and she shook her head.

"No. It's..." The words got stuck in her throat. _I love you. Say it, Romanoff, say it..._ "I want to help you find Bucky," came out instead, the only other way she could think of to cover how deeply he'd touched her.

Surprise registered and quickly turned to a frown. "No."

It was her turn to look surprised. "Why not? I thought that's what you wanted."

"Bucky does need my help, you're right. But he's too unstable right now, his coming here tonight is proof enough of that. It's unclear what his motives are, and I don't want to risk you getting hurt."

"That's sweet, but you do know I can take care of myself, right?" She arched a single brow at him, but he wouldn't let her joke about it.

"It's not about that. You're more capable than anyone I know. But if I was responsible for anything bad happening to you, I don't think I could take it."

"There's a chance we're in the wrong business then, because bad stuff happens all the time."

"Okay, let me put it another way," he tried again after a moment's thought, pacing the length of the room as he searched for the right words. "I _can't_ risk you getting hurt on my account. I've lost so many people in my life. Pretty much anyone I've ever cared about. That's part of why I need to get Bucky back."

"And that's why I'm offering to help you. I don't care if he finds out there's something between us. At least he won't be an ass about it like Stark will when he finds out." She'd thought it would make him happy to hear her talk about bringing their relationship out into the open, but Steve looked anything but pleased.

He stopped, hands on his hips as he looked down, his brow puckered with an agony she could only imagine. "I can't lose you, Nat. Not now."

"You won't lose me."

"You don't know that. That's why we need to keep this thing between us... whatever it is, under wraps."

Typical. The instant she started to re-think the idea of hiding their relationship, he did an about face. "I didn't figure you'd be the one to get cold feet about us."

"It's not about cold feet, it's about keeping you safe. Bucky's only one component of that. If we go public with our feelings we become vulnerable. I'm not so sure that's a good idea for anyone in the Avengers. There's a reason why most of us are alone."

A cold feeling of dread settled in the pit of her stomach. "What are you saying then? We hide what we're feeling for the rest of our lives? Or are you saying we should break up to keep each other safe?"

"Ah... maybe," Steve's brows pinched together as he rubbed at the back of his neck. "It would be the safer thing to do. For a while, at least, until things settle down. I don't... this is so out of my realm of expertise," he muttered, looking away.

No. Just. _No._ No way was she about to let fear steal one more moment of her life. "Rogers, that might be the stupidest thing you've ever said," she snorted, catching hold of his face and capturing his lips with a possessive kiss that didn't brook any arguments. "I happen to love you, soldier-boy. Do you honestly think I'm about to let you go?" She hit him again with another kiss until his mute shock melted away, and she felt his arms close around her where they belonged. "Well, do you?" she asked when they broke for air, allowing the vulnerability to surface in her eyes.

"No, ma'am," he rumbled, his voice soft and intimate as his forehead touched hers. Steve delivered a softer kiss that felt like a promise, one her soul reached out to match. "For the record, I love you too. That's why..."

"That's why we'll keep this between us, and no one else," she agreed, acknowledging the wisdom of that tactic. For now.

"Clint knows," he pointed out.

"I'll let Barton think it fizzled out. It won't take much of a stretch of the imagination for him to believe I screwed it up one way or another."

His hand smoothed up her back to curve around her neck, pulling her closer as he picked her up and effortlessly carried her to the bed. "But privately..."

"It'll take a lot more than a childhood friend turned crazed assassin to keep us apart," she pledged, sealing the deal with another soft kiss full of hope.

"Natasha..." he breathed between kisses as he laid her back against the covers.

"Yes?"

"Do you think you could say that thing where you love me again?"

It made her thrill that he felt the need to hear it, and only too happy to oblige, she punctuated each word with a kiss. "I... love... you."

His smile was dazzling as he covered her body with his. "And I'll always love you, come what may."

"You make it sound like you're expecting something bad."

"Like you said, bad stuff happens all the time."

Natasha wrapped her limbs around him, pulling him close. "Not tonight."

**A/N: She did it, she said the L word! We're getting really close to the end now, just one chapter left to bring us full circle to the end of the movie. I wish I had time to explore more of what comes next, but I'm starting on my next book. **

**~ Feedback is Love ~**


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: I don't own Cap or any of the characters, but I do like to take them for a spin every now and again…**

**This is it, the final chapter! Please note - I don't own any of the dialogue in the final section, I'm just using it to wrap this baby up and bring us back into the continuity line at the end of the movie – with my own little spin on it, of course. **

"_Natasha..." he breathed between kisses as he laid her back against the covers._

"_Yes?"_

"_Do you think you could say that thing where you love me again?"_

_It made her thrill that he felt the need to hear it, and only too happy to oblige, she punctuated each word with a kiss. "I... love... you." _

_His smile was dazzling as he covered her body with his. "And I'll always love you, come what may." _

"_You make it sound like you're expecting something bad." _

"_Like you said, bad stuff happens all the time." _

_Natasha wrapped her limbs around him, pulling him close. "Not tonight."_

* * *

~ Steve ~

It was late, nearly dawn when Steve reluctantly climbed from her bed. After that night they'd have to be more careful of the time they spent together if they expected to keep their connection a secret. Knowing that fact didn't make it any easier for either of them, but there was no denying the fact that he had to be on his way.

Natasha sat up to watch him dress, her arms wrapped around her knees. "I still want to help you find your friend," she said, her voice hushed in the faint light.

"And I still think that's a bad idea."

"Why? We can keep it professional while we're on the job. In fact, it might be a good test run before we get called to assemble again."

Steve sat on the edge of the bed to pull on his shoes. "Why the change of heart? I seem to recall you thinking it was a terrible idea to go after Bucky."

"Seeing him here tonight was an eye opener."

His head came up sharply. "Why? Is there something you're not telling me about what happened?"

"It's not what he did or even said..." He heard the hesitation in her voice and stopped to watch her carefully. "I saw it in his eyes, he's lost. If you don't help him now, I'm not sure you'll ever get him back."

"Which is exactly why I don't want you in the line of fire," he insisted, leaning back to steal a kiss. "Don't make me give you an order."

Natasha arched a single brow, and he gave her a cheeky grin to let her know it wasn't a serious order before she cracked him over the head. "Pulling rank on me? That's a low blow, Rogers."

"If that's what it takes to keep you safe."

"You know I can help keep _you_ safe, right?"

He knew better than most what she was capable of. That wasn't the issue at all. "I'm definitely aware of your skills. But it'll help me stay focused if I know you're in the clear."

Letting out a long sigh, she leaned against the headboard. "Alright, I'll stay away if that puts your mind at ease. But let me see what I can dig up behind the scenes. I might be able to call in a favor or two and get you pointed in the right direction. Would that be helpful?"

"Very," he smiled, glad she'd dropped the desire to jump into the fray. Still giddy over her admission that she loved him, he'd meant it when he said he didn't think he could take it if he was responsible for anything bad happening to her. If his heart broke one more time, he didn't think it'd ever be whole again. On that train of thought, he leaned down to give her a slow, lingering kiss, putting all of his yearning into it before he reluctantly pulled away. "I should go."

"Yes, you probably should get out of here before first light," she agreed, though she kept him there for another few minutes, stealing another deep kiss, until he broke away, putting the bed between them or he'd never get out of there.

"I'll call you later, okay?" Sure, he knew texting was all the rage, but he liked hearing her voice.

"Okay." He was almost to the door when she called him back. "Steve?"

"Yeah?" He could just make out her face in the deep shadows of the room.

"Be careful. Even if he remembers who he was, that doesn't mean he'll ever be the man you once knew. He's been through too much."

"Haven't we all."

* * *

~ Natasha ~

Sneaking around was her bread and butter, but Natasha started to feel like the other woman, only able to snatch a few hours here and there before they had to go back to their separate lives. Still, it was a smart move, at least for now. Besides, it made the sex smoking hot, or maybe that was just Steve. All that pent up longing... When they said _absence makes the heart grow fonder_, it did wonders for the rest of him as well.

Her phone rang, drawing her out of a heated memory. She couldn't hold back the smile at seeing Steve's name on the screen, but her tone was crisp and cool. "Hey, what's up?"

"Hi. I was just calling to check if you're going to Nick's memorial service."

"Of course, aren't you?"

"Yes, but I didn't want to assume."

"No, I'll be there, but I'll take my own car. We don't want..."

"I get it." He cut her off, ever worried about someone listening in.

"I have something for you," she remembered, glad he'd called. She would've ended up sending a text, but this was better.

"Oh?" She could tell from that single word that he was thinking of something a lot more personal than what she had in mind. "Nothing too, ah... indiscreet, I hope. Sam said he'd be there too."

Oh goody, an audience. Ah well, it was as fine a time as any to try out their performance. "No, it's nothing like that. Though I do have something to share the next time we meet for a midnight snack." Midnight snack was code for a tryst, no matter the time of day.

"I can't wait," he rumbled, his low voice sending a ripple of awareness over her skin. "I'll see you later then."

"Be careful." That was code for I love you, and she could hear it in his voice as he replied.

"You too."

* * *

~ Natasha ~

She hung back while Nick was saying his goodbyes. She'd already turned him down for a job and didn't want things to get any more awkward between them than they already were. Her loyalties were different now. Yes, she owed Nick her life many times over, but she also owed herself the chance at a new one. And for the moment, that meant keeping her options open so she could be there to assist the one who meant the most to her – whether he wanted her to or not. Besides, how weird was it that the guy crashed his own memorial service? At least he hadn't shown his face until everyone else had left.

Finally, Nick turned away, and she approached, unable to resist a little dig, knowing Nick could probably still hear her as she called out, "You should be honored, that's about as close as he gets to saying thank you." Sam was there too, but she only had eyes for Steve.

"Not going with him?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"No."

"Not staying here."

They'd already discussed her moving to a new city. Nothing too far away, but off the grid, away from prying eyes. For all intents and purposes, she was off the SHIELD roster. Not that there was much left of SHIELD anymore. That left her options wide open for the first time in forever. "I blew all my covers, I gotta go figure out a new one."

"That might take a while."

"I'm counting on it," she smiled, not particularly caring how long it took. But she was there to give him something, and she wiped the grin off of her face. "That thing you asked for. I called in a few favors from Kiev." Handing over the file, she lost all trepidation at seeing how much it meant to him. Sam was interested too, hanging on their every word, and she added a bit for his benefit. "Will you do me a favor? Call that nurse."

Steve's restrained smile let her know he was particularly amused by the suggestion. "She's not a nurse."

"And you're not a SHIELD agent."

"What was her name again?" As if he didn't know.

"Sharon. She's nice."

_But she's not you_, his eyes told her, and it warmed her heart.

Leaning in, she risked a kiss to his cheek. Friends, did that, right? "Love you," she breathed against his cheek, and he shot her a sharp look as she turned away. "Be careful, Steve. You might not want to pull on that thread," she added, knowing Sam still thought she was against finding Bucky.

It didn't require much acting to look concerned for his wellbeing as she walked away, but Natasha trusted Steve to take care of himself. She knew he'd move Heaven and Earth to come back to her.

It was hard to watch him ride away on his cycle, harder still to keep from following him. For the first time in her life, Natasha needed someone else, and it didn't make her feel weak, it made her feel human. She'd honor Steve's wishes for the time being. But if she had to, she'd go to Hell and back to bring him home if that's what it took. It wasn't every day you found the right partner, and she wasn't about to let him go without a fight.

**A/N: Well that's it, the end of the story. I wish I had the time to take them on an epic hunt for Bucky, but it's not in the cards for now. Plus, I kind of want to see what they do with it in Civil War, especially after seeing the after credits scene at the end of Ant Man. Maybe I'll continue this one in a sequel after I finish the next book? Send me a review if that's something you'd be interested in reading. Thanks to everyone who stuck with me on this story, I'm glad you came on this journey with me. **

**~ Feedback is Love ~**


End file.
